Moksha
by Sherlockfan221
Summary: "My brother has the mind of a scientist or a philosopher. What might we deduce about his heart?" Moksha a.k.a. Freedom... a journey in Self discovery
1. The Nadir-An Opportunity

Sherlock stomped his feet outside 221B, trying to get rid of some crusted dirt on his shoes, as he let himself in. He waited to let Mrs Hudson in, before closing the door behind them. It smelt stale in there, but at least it was warm and dry.

"Well, that was a long day, wasn't it, Sherlock?" she said, taking off her coat and hooking her shoes off, "they looked so happy. Mary was in labour for so long. And John – good God, his face when the baby was born! And she is darling, wonder what they will name her? They are going to be so busy with a baby at home. My mum always used to say, life is never the same, they come into your life and keep you busy for the next 18 years!" She glanced up at Sherlock, who was standing near the banister, with his hands in his coat pockets, with a resigned, polite look on his face,…._God, she has been prattling about the same things for half an hour…._ "Well, you best have some rest, it has been a very long day," she repeated and turned away.

Upstairs, Sherlock wasted no time, shedding his clothes (_smell of disinfectant, hospital, baby….), _stepped into a hot shower, trying to wash off the day. He stood under the hot jets, head tilted up, face lax, eyes closed, and finally let a deep, shivering breath out. 19 hours in the fucking hospital…waiting, trying to keep his act together, trying to _be there _for John. Waiting for the birth of a baby, who seemed to mock any hope he had of having his old life back, him and John, against the world. John, who had moved on, who had chosen Mary, who was _not gay_, who still nursed anger and mistrust towards Sherlock, who looked so happy at the wedding, who had forgiven Mary… All his work, his two years away fighting, struggling, running, scars bearing testament to his multiple injuries….He did it all for John, only to find upon his return, that not only had John moved on, but everything he had done, was undermined and brushed aside in a blaze of self righteous fury.

But at least John was safe, and happy, that should be enough, _shouldn't it_?

What was he supposed to do? He was a dad, Mary undoubtedly loved him, enough to shoot Sherlock to keep their marriage alive… the only option really… what any man would do, did you really expect him to leave his wife and child and climb into bed with you… move back to Baker Street…..I am happy that he is happy… that is the right sentiment… _sentiment_… when did I become _sentimental_?... What's wrong with me…get a grip…. picket fence, and daughter, and Mary, and suburbia and neighbours and neighbourhood parties and having sex with Mary, and birthday parties, and picnics, and PTA meetings, and domestic bliss…. How can he stand this? This mind numbing tediousness of a structured life, how to people live like this… how can this be his choice? He will have no time, no time for cases, and danger, and adventure, and smirks at crime scenes, and laughter after successful chases and nagging Sherlock to eat and sleep…. No more _that was amazing_'s…. no more, no more… emptiness, ennui, purposeless bloody life….wanting the unattainable, stop it, _just stop it_…

Sherlock was nothing if not aware, he was aware of the compulsive, repetitive, _pointless _thoughts that seemed to have taken over his normally structured mind ever since he had returned from the dead. Ever since he realized the reorientation of his place in John's life. A daily struggle of living on, making do, unable to function at the giddy intellectual heights he was used to. When there was a case on, it distracted him, his focus shifted to the job at hand, as he bent his considerable intellect to solving it, clutching at it even more desperately than he had before. But afterwards, it was the same, thinking, agitating, pacing, fighting a losing battle against frustration, anger and self-pity. _Loneliness…_

Head bowed now, chin to chest, he thought ,"I'm so tired, so _tired_… so sick of this," this cataclysm of emotions, stringing him along like a yo-yo, somehow managing to strangulate his entire reason, gripping and squeezing, until sometimes, frighteningly, rational thought became close to impossible. He was a worshipper of logic, science, rationality. "This is not who I am, _this cannot go on._" He suddenly had had enough.

He straightened his head, arms outstretched, palms pressing on the tiles in front of him and ordered himself, "Stop." Just one more concession, he wished to allow himself. Concentrating on emptying his mind, he methodically started closing all the open windows on the monitor of his mind. Close, close, close…. Empty, empty, empty. Slowly he focused on his body. Muscles taut with tension, face held in a permanent blank grimace, lest his actual emotions spill over. He instructed his body to relax, to let go. He felt the water beating on his head, his shoulders, finding its way down his body and pooling under his feet. Flexed his hand to feel the texture of the tiles, flared his nostrils to smell the aroma of soap and dampness. Just one more concession….. as he let himself _feel_. Pain, anguish, hurt, anger, jealously, envy, frustration, confusion….. and channeled it through himself, and let the tears flow, let the sobs wrack his entire body. He did not bother to stifle the sounds, the hitches of breath.

Several minutes passed, he waited patiently for the torrent to subside. As the tears slowed down, and the breathing settled, he struggled to not succumb to exhaustion. And then very deliberately, he whispered, to the closest thing to a deity he knew… his own self, the titanium core he knew he possessed, "Please, _please_," not quite sure what he was asking for, knowing however, that it will be granted. And slowly the tears stopped, the back straightened. He turned off the shower and dried himself briskly. He looked at himself in the mirror, as he wiped his face, eyes red rimmed but clear, jaw set with a stern determined expression, and told himself softly, "Welcome back."

* * *

><p>An hour later, Sherlock Holmes was lying down on the sofa, fingers pressed together held near his chin, head relaxed and resting on the armrest. The posture helped him, his subconscious recognized it as his thinking pose, and fosund no difficulty focusing meditatively inwards. He closed his eyes and started thinking.<p>

**Fact**: John was married with a child, happily married, and very unlikely to return to Bakers Street. He has made his peace with what he wanted in life, and Sherlock was no longer a priority.

**Fact**:For all the difference it made the last 5 years may as well have not happened, he was back here. Alone.

**Fact** : No, not alone. He had learned that he had people who cared about him. Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, Molly, Lestrade, and yes John and Mary.

**Fact**: He was grieving the loss of his life with John. He was sick of the grief. Any romantic involvement with John was a fantasy, both because John was _not gay_ and he was married.

**Fact:** London, solving puzzles, challenging his mind still held the same allure it always had. But now, they were no longer enough. He had glimpsed contentment (_of sorts_) and wanted it again.

**Fact**: He had been secretly miserable since his return, had second guessed himself all the time, was teetering at the precipice of depression and the brink of giving into drugs. _Have given into them a few times, _he reminded himself_._

He allowed his neurons to wrap themselves around the facts, methodically, logically tried to approach a solution. The house was silent, the room pleasantly warm, as Sherlock wriggled his frame to a more comfortable position to continue reflecting on this conundrum.

Several minutes later, he woke up with a gasp, and before his mind had caught up to his waking state, his lips parted into an "Oh…. Of course, Kesh." It was the work of a moment to spring out of the sofa and retrieve his mobile from the table. Stupid, stupid…. Why had he not thought of Kesh through all this? Kesh used to say, "When a situation is unacceptable and out of one's control, the only way ahead is a change of attitude." Well, his subconscious seemed to have provided the impetus during his power nap.

He closed his eyes momentarily, raced through the corridors of his mind palace, swerved into his India wing, ran up the stairs to reach Kesh's room. Found the note with his phone number and raced out again.

_When sentiment is ruining your life, how do you deal with it? SH_

He sank down in his chair this time, tapping his phone to his lips absent mindedly, as he allowed his mind to saunter back to Kesh's room. It has been a long time…. I should have thought of him straightaway. How much out of it have I been, wallowing in self pity? He sat down on the divan sofa he had decorated Kesh's room with. And waited.

He came back to the buzzing of his phone, signaling an incoming message-

_The only way to overcome attachment, is to take it out of you, and examine it impersonally, with detachment, from a higher vantage point. Once the intellect starts its logical discriminative process, it fades away –Hrishikesh_

Sherlock read it, brow furrowed, absorbing, breathing this in, eyes darting unfocussed as he dissected the nuances. A slow smile started nudging his lips_. _

_I have missed you, but I haven't, you know? SH_

Seconds later-

_I know. And I have missed you. Any chance of coming over here? – Hrishikesh._

_Let me think about it. SH_

_I will always wait for you, Sherlock. Say Hello to My, from me- Hrishikesh._

_How did you know I was going to call him? SH_

_I know __**you**_ _- Hrishikesh_

The half sob, half chuckle that escaped Sherlock, sounded loud in the flat, and nearly startled him. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he let his head fall forward, and felt in amazement the tear that slowly trickled out, angled over his nose, perched at the tip, fighting gravity and finally losing the battle. Gosh, when was the last time he had felt this….hopeful?

On a roll now, he quickly typed-

_John and Mary had a baby daughter today. Mother and baby are fine. John is ecstatic. SH_

And pressed send.

A minute later, the phone buzzed-

_ETA 40 minutes- MH_

Smiling now, Sherlock wiped his face with his hands, and leaned back, lassitude having claimed every muscle. Normally this degree of laxity occurred only after masturbation. Mentally shrugging his shoulders, he closed his eyes and gave himself up to sleep.

* * *

><p>The sleek, unmarked black car, slowly turned into Bakers Street. Mycroft clutched the handle of the bag containing chicken biryani and tawa chicken, in readiness to leave. The tantalizing aroma enveloped the car interior.<p>

It had been 35 minutes ago, that his phone had buzzed with Sherlock's incoming message. Mycroft had read it with wonder- an unsolicited message about trivial banality, without hostility, and not asking for Mycroft's help….. the last time it had happened was well over 6 years ago. Sherlock had become clean of drugs and before he started working for the Met. They had spent the evening together, talking, communicating, Sherlock being open, himself. Mycroft cherished the memory of that evening and it had kept him going through the past 6 years.

For many months now, he had been forced to stand by and watch, as his once proud brother slowly disintegrated, defeated by sentiment. Each time he saw him, his body seemed to be pulled tauter, tightness around his eyes, as if he were holding himself together, by the sheer force of his indomitable willpower. It was obvious to anyone who cared to observe, but that was the problem wasn't it? People either do not observe, or are too self-immersed to care.

God knew, John Watson was a good man, but Mycroft resented how Sherlock's association with him had shaped the past 3 years of his life, and taken so much from him. He hadn't been able to bring himself to attend John's wedding. The very prospect of celebrating the union, that would put the final nail in the coffin of a future his brother envisaged and had sacrificed so much for, made him want to upchuck.

And now this…. A cry for help? A desire to share? A new turn on life's road?

He stepped out on the curb, barely able to wait as the car slowed down, and gestured his driver to leave. He opened the front door with his keys, and climbed upstairs.

Sherlock was lying on the sofa, eyes closed, body lax. "Mycroft," he said, and slowly opened his eyes to look at his brother. Mycroft took in his appearance, standing at the doorway. He could not remember the last time his brother had looked this…..serene. Face inviting, beautiful eyes focused on Mycroft, burning as they reflected the unmatched brilliance of the owner's mind. It occurred to Mycroft, with the sudden jolt of an epiphany, that this, _this_ is probably what nature was aiming at with evolution, a body of such perfect beauty and form and a razor sharp rational intellect.

Shaking himself mentally, he moved to the kitchen, "I've brought you Indian food."

"Indeed, the smell woke me… it's good," so saying Sherlock followed him to the kitchen, as they moved in harmony to get plates and cutlery.

For a while no words were spoken, none necessary, as they sat on the kitchen table eating in companionable silence.

"Scotch?" Sherlock's voice broke the quiet. "That would be fitting," came the response.

They retired to the armchairs, moving them so that both could watch the fire crackle, and yet angled slightly so that could look up at each other.

Several moments of quietude followed. Mycroft felt peaceful, attuned for once at Sherlock's wavelength, unwilling to break the harmony of shared food, drink, minds.

After what could be minutes or hours, Sherlock got up, and fetched his phone. Scrolling down till he reached recent texts, he then handed the phone to Mycroft.

He accepted the phone, eyebrows raised, without saying a word. He read the texts, let them percolate through his brain, pulling various threads together.

"The lost month in India?" he finally asked Sherlock. An approving look came on Sherlock's face. That was the wonder of talking with Mycroft, one does not need to spell out things. "Yes." came the brief reply.

More quiet ensued, each lost in their thoughts.

Mycroft remembered it well….

News of Sherlock's capture outside Lahore, the frantic evacuation to Delhi, doctors reports: _fractured ribs, haemopneumothorax, acute respiratory distress, need to put chest drain, will be put on a ventilator to help him breathe, grade two concussion, blood loss due to blunt force trauma to the abdomen, lacerated liver, emergency partial hepatic resection… _

48 hours of vigil at an unconscious Sherlock's bedside, four more days before he was off the ventilator and start moving around; arguments about the insanity of continuing to pursue Moriarty's network, Sherlock's adamant assertions that he needed to pursue Moran, the need to go to Serbia as soon as he could to finally eliminate all threats to John…. Mycroft for the first time in his life shouting at Sherlock, Sherlock's stubborn demeanor…..

And the next day, Sherlock was gone. Despite moving heaven and earth and with all his not inconsiderable resources, Mycroft could not find him. Ten days later, a single untraceable message on his mobile-

_Am fine . Will finish the job and come home soon. SH_

Finally Mycroft's men were able to pick up Sherlock's trail 27 days in Kathmandu, Nepal. He then made his way to Serbia, and did manage to finish the job.

Mycroft let the silence stretch, unwilling to disturb Sherlock's line of thought since the last word he spoke. He wondered if Sherlock would elaborate. Abruptly, Sherlock got up again from the chair, moving towards the kitchen.

"Refill?" he asked. "Thank you, yes"

Nursing his second tumbler of 18 year old Scotch, he waited. Sherlock seemed to be making up his mind, and Mycroft was happy to wait.

"I went to Rishikesh. I had a nebulous idea of disappearing somewhere in the communities at the foothill of the Himalayas. I was waiting for some food at an eatery, standing out on the road, amongst throngs of public, and then I sort of just _collapsed_"

"Next thing I knew, I had woken up at Kesh's house. I stayed with him for 24 days. He got me the medical and nursing assistance, let me rest, fed me, talked to me…. _he saved me_"

Sherlock's voice trailed off, as he lost himself to memories;

_I need to go back, Kesh. I have to finish what I started._

_If you feel so strongly that you must, then go ahead. Always follow your convictions. If you win, then you will have achieved what your heart desires. If you lose, you may have learnt something important about yourself. If you have the right attitude every situation is a win-win._

_Bear in mind, the outcome may or may not be everything that you want. When you decide to come back, I'll be waiting for you._

_You mean if I come back_

_You will, my friend, you will. _

_He remembered the last smile, as Kesh sent him on his way, full of confidence and understanding._

After a while, "Tell me more," from Mycroft, pulled Sherlock out of his reverie. He correctly interpreted this, as not being an intrusion or a quest for details, but interest.

"His name is Hrishikesh," he said, gesturing towards the phone. "He saved my life, Mycroft. More than that, he saved me. Everything was so abysmal, I thought of just giving up. He kept me going. I wish you could have met him. You and I... we are brilliant, but he is something more... he is sagacious."

"What does he do?"

"I don't know the details. But, he is a scientist, a physicist to be more precise. He does some sort of consulting work with CERN."

"Higg's boson?"

"No, dark energy research actually. I did not have the luxury of going into details then."

Mycroft hesitated, wondering if he was about to cross a line. Sherlock observed his brother squirming, and said with a dry smirk, "Out with it, Mycroft."

"Were you …. _intimate_?"

.With a deep breath, Sherlock brought his hands in front of his face again, "More intimate, than I have ever been with anyone." At Mycroft's raised eyebrows, he continued, "Not in a sexual way, although things were progressing in that direction by the time I left. No, it was the rare intimacy of being with someone, who understands and accepts you, without pretense or prejudice. And of course, for the first week, Kesh and Haridas, his man servant were nursing me. Sponge baths, peeing in jars, washing my behind after I'd evacuated my bowels, chest physiotherapy, assisted feeding and the like."

As Mycroft tried to imagine a Sherlock so weakened, his hands involuntarily clenched with frustration and a delayed relief that he had been looked after. Whoever this Hrishikesh was, he owed him a deep debt of gratitude.

"Have you been in touch with him all this while?"

"No. Kesh is like me in that sense. Neither of us are the sort to _keep in touch_ and exchange banalities"

Sherlock stood up from his chair and neatly folded himself to sit cross-legged near Mycroft. His eyes were calm, and a trifle unfocussed. Still lost in his thoughts then.

After some time, Mycroft put his hand on Sherlock's head and stroked his hair. "And now what?"

"I want to go, My, I feel I _have_ to," Sherlock replied after a pause.

Mycroft's hand stilled, and he tugged at the hair, so that Sherlock had to angle his head back, and look at him, and said solemnly, "Then that is what will happen. I will have Anthea make the arrangements. Where will you have to fly to? When would you like to leave?"

"New Delhi. Then Dehradun. And then a car to Rudraprayag. It is at the foothills of the Kedarnath peak of the Himalayas."

"Is that where he is?"

"Yes."

"And, tomorrow, My, I need to leave before I change my mind."

"I'll arrange it."

Mycroft leant forward, to press a kiss on Sherlock's head. He felt Sherlock's smile against his trouser leg.

"Would it be running away?"

"I don't know. Would it?"

"I need to do something. This _can't_ go on. _That way madness lies; let me shun that. No more of that_," Sherlock murmured.

With a deep sigh, Sherlock leant his head on one of Mycroft's knees, letting his hand clutch a pant crease and pull it, and stayed motionless for quite some time, in silent reflection, allowing Mycroft to continue stroking his head.

To be Continued...


	2. Prarambh-A Beginning

It was late morning, when Sherlock's flight landed at New Delhi airport. As he left the airport to get into the shuttle bus for transfer to the domestic terminal, the sun's rays reflected off his sun glasses, and seemed to scorch his very skin. Grateful that he had thought to change into linen trousers and a T-shirt, he looked around and took in the droves of people everywhere.

Yes, it seemed to be exactly as he remembered it. Bursts of color everywhere, a cacophony of sounds, smells of tantalizing food and accumulated rubbish vying for place, smiling faces, loud voices, the heaving rhythm of life in India.

The flight was full, as every possible mode of transport in India always was. It was a smaller aircraft and Sherlock sat at his window seat, next to an old Indian lady, in a traditional sari. He spared her barely a glance, but took it all in just the same. _Around seventy, first time flying, anxious, housewife, diabetes, going to meet son?_

As the pilot was taxiing for takeoff, she brought out a rosary bead, and seemingly started praying. But there was no concentration in her prayer, as her wide, anxious eyes looked around. Seeming to settle on a decision, she inched her elbow towards Sherlock's on the hand rest between them. Sherlock turned his head, and looked towards her blankly. He wondered what her thoughts might be, looking at a tall, pale foreigner with gray eyes and a forbidding expression.

He observed the plea in her gaze, and found himself doing the unexpected. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile and presented his left hand palm up, in invitation. She smiled gratefully and clasped it firmly in her own small one and squeezed and did not let it go until they were well at cruising altitude. When she did let go, she promptly opened her purse to retrieve a round stainless steel container, with what looked like rotis stuffed with something and with an alarming amount of butter on top and another small container of pickles.

She extended her hand, and offered the food to Sherlock, warily. A sudden wave of forgotten memories hit Sherlock, from his last stay here. This too, was as he remembered it. The effortless hospitality and kindness. He had found it so easy to just be himself, unencumbered by etiquette.

With a smile, he accepted a quarter of the roti, and made appreciative sounds as he chewed.

He allowed her to hold his hand during the descent as well.

* * *

><p>The soft glow of a table lamp was all that lit Mycroft's office. The surrounding darkness, cast moving shadows as he shifted in his chair to get more comfortable. He sat in his shirtsleeves, with a small glass of sherry next to him. He had been working ceaselessly for 2 hours now, on the draft proposal for immigration reform, to be tabled in Parliament the next day.<p>

Wearily, he rubbed his face with his hands and sat back into the chair, and let his shoulders slouch a bit. Earlier, despite his many commitments, he had accompanied Sherlock in his ride to the airport. The atmosphere in the car had been quiet and companionable.

"_Keep an eye on Mrs. Hudson and John for me, Mycroft. And I would prefer you do not investigate Kesh, but should you choose to do so, I do not want to know about it."_

_Mycroft inclined his head slightly to show he understood and said, "Will you stay in touch?"_

"_I will let you know when I reach, beyond that, we shall see. Leave me alone, Mycroft, I do not want your lackeys trailing me. Let me be, otherwise the purpose of this visit is not served."_

_They looked at each other for a while, affection and antagonism sparring for supremacy. It was hard for Mycroft to acquiesce with Sherlock's request, the need to control and to protect, where his little brother was concerned, was far too entrenched in him and for too long. _

_Finally, as they parted, he gave Sherlock's hand a reassuring squeeze and took in his fill of Sherlock's face, and watched as the most important person in his life walked away. _

The sharp, rhythmic clicking of high heels brought him back to the present, and he looked up to watch Anthea walk into the office. She looked as put together at midnight, as she did first thing in the morning. With a small smile, she walked in and sat down across the table from Mycroft.

"Sherry?" he asked. "Yes, thank you."

As he stood up to fill another crystal glass, she opened the file on her lap, in preparation to give him her report. The first instruction he had given him that morning was to make arrangements for Sherlock, the second, was a priority one investigation into Mr. Hrishikesh from India.

She watched as he settled into his chair and looked at him calmly, waiting.

"Hrishikesh Yadav. 28 years old. Single child of industrialist parents; Orphan; Parents killed instantly in a car crash when he was 11 years old; Is a consultant to CERN; Runs his own team over there; Travels to both Europe and America, about twice a year. "

"He is involved in a lot of charitable works, but not affiliated to any known charity. Anecdotal evidence suggests he is responsible for the building and maintenance of several schools, hospitals and old age homes in Uttaranchal, a state in North India where he resides. No political affiliations."

"Owns several factories, diverse portfolio, mainly dairy, some manufacturing, and agriculture."

She paused and looked up, waiting for Mycroft to catch her eyes.

"And, Sir….he is _rich_."

Mycroft who had been listening intently so far, quite taken aback at Anthea's findings, found himself raising his eyebrows at her emphasis.

So far, nothing she had said conformed to what he had imagined. Given Sherlock's inclinations, he was fully prepared to hear about a bohemian Indian person, unconventional enough to have caught his brother's eye, spouting new age nonsense, making Sherlock think he was _sagacious_. Or perhaps, someone like John, quiet, unassuming, with a load of hidden character, who had stoically looked after an unwell Sherlock.

While he had been listening to Anthea his mind was struggling to rearrange his mental image.

He leaned forward to pick up the folder she held up.

"These are a summary of his financial holdings and current records. Our operative was keen to point out, that he may have barely skimmed the surface, given the limited time he had been allotted for his task. He was also keen to pass on the overall impression he had, of a person who was held in _very _high regard, in that part of the world."

Several moments passed in silence, as Mycroft's read the report and his eyebrows had raised themselves to new heights. When he was done scanning the report, he looked up at Anthea, who asked, "Does Sherlock know?"

"He didn't mention it, though for Sherlock money has never been a note worthy factor."

"Right. Well one last thing, Sir. Our operative found it extraordinarily difficult to get any photographs of Mr. Hrishikesh, but just an hour ago, he managed to track down a picture taken during an Indian wedding that he attended 2 years ago. The image quality is poor, Sir," said Anthea, as she passed on a glossy photograph paper to Mycroft.

The picture quality was grainy. There were typical flower arrangements and vibrant colored materials all over. In the midst of this was a tall, distinguished young man, wearing a deep burgundy, bespoke, Indian suit, head angled slightly to lend attention to what another man in his fifties was saying to him. The photograph captured well the confident stance, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other nursing a drink; the smooth brown skin, long aristocratic nose, locks of dark shoulder length hair seemed to sway over a high forehead interrupted by a straight crimson marking, typical of Indian festivities.

But it was the mischievous glint in the dark bewitching eyes, and a seductive smile which produced dimples on both cheeks that were the arresting features. He was _stunning_.

Mycroft stared at the picture for a long time, before he finally let out his breath in a rush. Anthea, used to her employer's moods, was silent, until he looked up to her. "Indeed," she said cryptically when she noted the dazed look, and then burst out laughing, giving way to her joy at seeing that particular expression on his face.

Suddenly Mycroft felt like he needed to move, as if a surge of energy was charging through his body. He almost leapt up and went towards the window, as if to turn away and have a moment to himself. Eyes unfocussed, he just stared out into the open for some time. And finally turned to Anthea, who still had the smile on her face, and said, "It appears my brother may have finally found someone worthy of him after all…." And matched her smile with a delighted grin.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock Sir, Sherlock Sir," came the repeated shouts as a short, stocky man ran towards Sherlock outside Jolly Grant Airport at Dehradun. People passing by, strained to find the owner of this unusual name being called out so enthusiastically.<p>

Sherlock turned towards him, and said "Vedant!" as he acknowledged the man.

Vedant leapt forward and grabbed Sherlock's hand, and pumped it up and down vigorously in greeting, all the time exhibiting a beaming smile. For the second time that day, Sherlock felt his face break out into a spontaneous grin. It was hard not to smile when a pygmy sized plump man, is dancing all around you, looking for all the world as if he had an imaginary tail wagging behind him.

He took the suitcase from Sherlock and put it in the car boot.

"Sir, how are you? I have been waiting for so long. I came 2 hours ago. Hrishikesh _bhaiyya_ told me very sternly that on no account should I be late in picking you up. He is sorry he could not come personally, but he will be at home by the time we reach there. Are you hungry? Would you like to eat something before we leave? There is a landslide near Devprayag, so we will take at least 6 hours to reach there."

Finally it seemed to Sherlock he had run out of breath, as he paused.

"Let us just find some fruit on the way. And try and get there as soon as possible."

"Sir, Haridas has already packed fruit and cold drinks, he knew you would not eat anything else. I will drive Sir, you sit in the back seat and sleep if you need to."

Shaking his head slightly in bemusement, Sherlock got into the car. Vedant, indeed India seemed unchanged and timeless. Now that his destination was so near, he could not help but feel his anticipation rising. His stomach lurched suddenly at the thought of seeing Kesh, wondering what his friend thought of all this.

* * *

><p>"The doctors have done our final checks on both Mary and your daughter. They are fit for discharge today, if you wish to take them home," the nurse informed John, as he strode into Mary's room with coffee. The room looked cheerful with balloons and congratulatory cards all over. Mary though looked tired, it was hard to get a good night's rest in hospital surroundings.<p>

" Oh good! Well, thank you. I'll just get everything organized", said John as the nurse left the room.

He stepped forward, and put the coffee gingerly on the bedside table, and bent down to plant a kiss on Mary's lips and the baby's forehead.

As the morning progressed, they worked together to get ready to leave.

"Where do you think he has gone?" said John, with a thoughtful expression, folding Mary's clothes.

"Who, Sherlock?" said Mary, immediately knowing whom John was talking about. He had already asked variations of the same three times already since he walked in the morning.

John had got a text from Sherlock the previous night, and part of him seemed to be constantly focusing on that.

_I am leaving the country for a bit. Will contact upon my return. SH_

He had tried to ring back, but the phone was switched off.

"Don't worry, love. It's probably a case. Tell you what, why don't you call Mycroft and find out"

After a few moments,John said, "I don't really want to talk to bloody Mycroft. I'll wait for now, if Sherlock does not call by next week, I'll think about it," as he picked up his daughter and buried his face around her body and took the baby smell in.

* * *

><p>The Toyota Innova, weaved its way through Devprayag, and had gone past the landslide, by the time Sherlock woke up from a rather deep sleep. He sat up, and wiped the drool that was trickling down one lip corner, with the back of his hand.<p>

"What time is it? How much longer, Vedant?" he said with a sleep roughened voice.

"Sherlock Sir, good you are awake. We should be half an hour at the most. We will reach just in time for dinner. Hrishikesh bhaiyya has reached home now, and is waiting for you."

Nodding his head, to show he understood, Sherlock looked out of the window. They were making good time, Vedant was still a good driver, the skills required in driving through treacherous poorly constructed Indian roads in a mountainous terrain were very different to what most considered to be good driving skills.

Sherlock watched as they passed little villages, crossed precarious bridges over the river Mandakini. Even with just over a year gone by, it seemed more populated, more buildings had come up. _Wonder if John would have liked to come here. Wonder what he is doing. Have they taken the baby home. Is he wondering where I am. Kesh is waiting for me. What do I say if he asks the reason for my impromptu visit. He is always so calm. He will not like to see me agitated or upset. I must calm down. I cannot wait to see his smile. _

They by-passed the main town of Rudraprayag, and took another route which ran alongside the river Mandakini. The waters, joyously leaping up, as fast currents hit huge boulders, shimmered in the setting sun. After a few minutes, the car started ascending one of the mountains. Vedant had instructed that the air conditioner be switched off as the car climbed, to prevent any engine stalling.

The air cooled considerably as they climbed, and several snow clad mountain peaks of the Himalayan range came into view. Pre-summer dryness, lent an eroded loose quality to the soil, as it billowed behind the racing car. There were no railings to prevent a plummet of several hundred feet, to their death, if Vedant lost concentration.

Sherlock, having experienced this previously, sat calmly and watched the river appear and disappear from view and let the roar of the river and musical songs of birds in the surrounding trees engulf him. In a few minutes he would see Kesh again, his heart felt like it was pounding in his chest in nervous anticipation.

Suddenly Vedant glanced back as he over as he handed over something to Sherlock. "For your hair, Sir, it looks terrible." Sherlock looked down at the brown plastic comb, now nestled in his hands, and did not fight the ensuing chuckle. _How intrusive and endearing at the same time_.

He looked up to meet Vedant's eyes in the rearview mirror and smirked. Vedant responded, "Hrishikesh bhaiyya is seeing you after a year, Sir. You should look your best."

Sherlock kept smiling as he combed his hair dutifully.

The car turned a final corner, to reveal a massive house, perched at the mountain side. It was three levels high, with terraces all around, only partially visible through a thick foliage of majestic trees. The gravel driveway was lined on both sides with verdant grass, different varieties of flowering plants and trees. The temperature further dipped in all that greenery.

As the car slowed into the driveway they passed a wizened, thin, old man, displaying a warm smile, wearing a cotton Indian dhoti and kurta, palms folded respectfully in front of his chest. The traditional Indian greeting of _Namaste_.

_Haridas._

Vedant cheerfully waved to Haridas, as he brought the car to a stop.

Standing in front of the car, was a tall, elegant man, sporting a welcoming dimpled smile and warm twinkling eyes, looking at Sherlock for the first time in over a year.

_Kesh. _

To be continued…


	3. Sakha-A Friend

Haridas ran forward to open the car door. Sherlock stepped out and absently answered his greeting without breaking eye contact with Kesh.

Time and the world seemed to recede as Kesh stepped forward and embraced Sherlock. Letting out a shuddering breath, Sherlock simply _melted_ into the embrace, and let his face nuzzle into Kesh's neck, wrapping his arms around Kesh. He felt his whole body sag, as he allowed Kesh to carry his weight just for a bit. Strong arms held him up, as Kesh murmured into his ear repeatedly, "I've got you. It's all right now. Let go. I've got you."

After a while, Sherlock rubbed his eyes on Kesh's shoulder to surreptitiously wipe away the tears that he seemed to have embarrassingly produced and stepped away to look at his friend. Startled at seeing tears mirrored in Kesh's eyes, he returned the wide smile and gave a small self deprecating laugh. Kesh held Sherlock's head as he bent forward and kissed his forehead softly, in benediction, his whispered "Later" full of promise.

Sherlock slowly came to his surroundings and looked up. Both Haridas and Vedant were standing respectfully afar, with hands folded in Namaste and eyes towards the ground. They were joined by some more people, all standing in a line quietly.

"Come, Sherlock, meet my newest family members," so saying Kesh pulled Sherlock by his arm towards the group.

Leading him to a middle aged fit looking, man, with a balding forehead and alert eyes, he said, "This is Partha. He helps Haridas in looking after the house. Partha, this is my friend, Sherlock." With a humble smile, the man bowed down slightly while holding his palms folded in front of him. Sherlock bowed his head slightly and said, "Pleased to meet you."

Kesh continued to perform introductions with seven more men with sundry duties and finally reached the last two members of the group.

"This is Meera, she has taken over the cooking duties for now," said Kesh as he gestured towards a young beautiful girl in her early twenties. She smiled shyly at Sherlock and then pushed a boy of about seven years, towards Sherlock.

The boy stared wide eyed at Sherlock, and then tugged on Kesh's shirt, and asked, "Is this the uncle with the beautiful eyes?"

Laughing aloud, Kesh bent down to sweep the boy in his arms, and said, "Yes, it is. The most beautiful eyes in the _entire world_. Sherlock, meet Mahesh, Meera's brother." Sherlock blushed furiously as he smiled at the boy and said Hello. The entire group was leaning forward to get another look at Sherlock's eyes.

With a nod towards the group Kesh said, "Come. It is dinner time, and Haridas and Meera have been slaving all day to celebrate your arrival with a feast."

Taking the cue from their employer, the group dispersed quickly to their tasks.

"Wonder where …" Kesh started to say, just as a young, smartly dressed man, with piercing eyes and warm smile, came jogging up the driveway towards them.

"Sorry, Sherlock sir, I was held up with some work."

Sherlock strode forward in greeting, and shook his hand. "Uddhav, I have told you previously, please just call me Sherlock."

"Welcome, Sherlock," said the man, as he gave Sherlock a brief bear hug. "We are all so excited you are back. Kesh has been frantically trying to wrap up all his pending commitments in the past 48 hours. He has barely slept. And of course I have been running around trying to keep up with all his orders."

"I've asked Haridas to get the room on the second floor ready for you, the one with the terrace. You are walking much better this time," Kesh said with a smile. "Come, you must be jet lagged. Eat. Shower. Rest. Everything else can wait for now."

The trio walked into the house, Kesh and Uddhav cracking jokes and laughing, as they led Sherlock in.

* * *

><p>The king sized bed dipped slightly, as Sherlock lowered his body and let out a groan of bliss at finally being horizontal after more than 24 hours. Dressed only in pants, he pulled the duvet up and gazed outside the huge open French windows that covered an entire wall of his bedroom and opened out to a massive terrace. It was a beautifully appointed room in marble and wood, cheerful curtains fluttered at the gentle but chilly breeze. The background sounds of the splashing waters of the river below created a perfect ambiance for a good nights rest. He was exhausted.<p>

Dinner had been an intimate affair, with Kesh, Uddhav and Sherlock around the table, making pleasant small talk, while Haridas bustled around them to serve food.

Uddhav had arranged a smart phone for him, so he had sent Mycroft a brief text.

_Have arrived. In good hands. Do not worry. This is my number. SH _

Just as he was about to switch the bedside lamp off, there was a knock on the door. Haridas entered the room, bearing a tray with a bottle of water, cold pitcher of milk, cookies, bananas, apples. He put it on the coffee table, then turned to Sherlock and said, "Please call me if you need anything, Sherlock. Hrishikesh is still busy with his conference call. He had tried to cancel it, but unfortunately it was not possible." So saying, he turned to leave, only to have Sherlock stop him.

"I did not get a chance to speak much to you earlier. How have you been,Haridas?"

Haridas walked towards Sherlock's bed and perched himself gently at one corner, near Sherlock's feet. He shuffled forward and started pressing and massaging Sherlock's calves, with both his hands, as he replied, "How can anyone who is looked after by Hrishikesh, be anything but happy? He is my son, my father, my employer, he is my everything. "

Sherlock groaned again with pleasure at feeling his tired muscles being massaged.

"You don't have to do this, Haridas," said Sherlock as he sat up, to hold Haridas's hands still. The duvet fell to his waist, but he did not mind. He held the scrawny hands, and caressed them with his palms, remembering how they had gently coaxed food into his mouth, how they had held his coughing trembling body, while Kesh sponged him and administered physiotherapy.

With a smile, the older man replied, "It is my honour to serve the one whom Hrishikesh loves."

Neatly avoiding Sherlock's startled look, he pointed to the scar on his right upper abdomen. "I see this has healed well. But this is new," he pointed to the ugly starburst scar under Sherlock's breast bone. "What happened?"

"I was shot."

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes, it did," came the soft reply.

Meeting his eyes, Haridas stood up briskly, and gently lowered Sherlock back to bed, adjusting the pillow around his head. He bent down to stroke his head smiling gently, and said, "Sleep now, Sherlock. There are no wounds that time does not heal. You are home now. Trust Hrishikesh. Rest."

He closed the door softly on his way out.

* * *

><p>The backlit green numbers of the digital clock on the bedside table flashed 4.43 am when Sherlock awoke. The room was noticeably cold, and he tried to snuggle in and go back to sleep. But typical of the diurnal disturbance of the jetlagged, he felt fresh and too alert to fall asleep again.<p>

He dressed quickly before his body started shivering, and stepped out onto the terrace.

The terrace was bigger than the bedroom, marble flooring and lined by balustrades. It allowed a panoramic view of the surrounding peaks and was partly covered with an awning.

He walked forwards to the left of the terrace and watched the river below; it looked like a sleeping cobra from this height, sinuous curves and glistening white as it traced its way through the valley. The waters danced and shimmered in the moonlight. Sherlock took in a deep breath of brisk pure mountain air and enjoyed the moment of stillness and beauty.

He slowly walked a circle as he strolled over to the right side. This part looked down at the balcony off the first floor of the house, and into Kesh's room. The architect had taken great pains to disturb the natural terrain as less as possible, in building this house. A huge banyan tree emerged through a specifically constructed circular hole in the marble flooring, and the giant tree lent an impressive cover over most of the huge space, its foliage extending to the second level, where Sherlock stood.

Sitting on one of the seats arranged near the massive tree trunk, was Kesh. Dressed only in loose pajama bottoms, upper body bare, toned muscles casting shadows on his chest in the moonlight. Spine, back and neck in a straight line, cross legged, eyes closed, hands held relaxed on his lap. A calmness on the unlined face. Meditating then….

Sherlock watched him for some time, struck by the stillness that emanated from his friend. _How is he not feeling cold? He used to do this, I remember. Wake up long before sunrise and meditate everyday. Certainly the location is helpful. So beautiful, so peaceful. _

After some time of watching, Sherlock went back into his room and dragged a duvet and pillows out. He created a comfortable nest on the day bed at the edge, next to the balustrades, and settled in. And watched his friend some more through a gap in the balustrades. Two squirrels were running to and fro from the tree to Kesh's feet. Three parakeets chirped and squabbled at the corner of the terrace.

Just watching the stillness emanating from Kesh, calmed Sherlock.

_When I close my eyes, I go to my mind palace, I follow every thread of logic to its conclusion and exert order into my inner landscape. Where does Kesh go when he meditates? I must ask him._

_Haridas said he loves me. Is that possible? What kind of love is he talking about? It is in Kesh's nature to love everyone and everything. Is that the kind of love he feels for me? What type of love do I want it to be? Do I love him? He makes me feel whole, he validates everything I am. I love knowing he exists, knowing that he is my friend, knowing that he will be there always. I enjoy the passing touches and crave for much more. His body smells like sandalwood, his touch is like a benediction. Only giving, never asking for anything. Is that love?_

_Is what I feel about John love; the need to possess, to fuck, to be the sole recipient of his attentions, to jump off a building for him, to shoot a man for him, to be jealous of anything that takes him away from me? _

Sherlock succumbed to sleep before he could answer his own question.

* * *

><p>It was after breakfast, that Kesh stood at the window of his third floor office and looked down at the sleeping figure of Sherlock. Wrapped up in the cocoon of his duvet, only his curly black hair falling on his forehead and upper face and part of one pale hand clutching the duvet were visible. And yet Kesh stood there, mesmerized and watched.<p>

_Love is so strange. I would rather be here, looking at bits and pieces of another person, than anywhere else in the world. _

Kesh laughed at himself and then quietly allowed himself to celebrate the existence of Sherlock and his presence in front of him.

He heard Uddhav's brisk footsteps, as he entered the room, but did not turn away from the sight he was drinking in. He heard the rustling of paper, as Uddhav brought him up to date with various events.

"These documents came through by email. They are the renewal contracts of two of the engineers at CERN and need your signature. I have gone through them, and they seem fine."

"Some villagers want to come and see you tomorrow and I have tentatively asked them to come just before lunch, but if you have something planned, we can change that."

"Mr Rathod, the school principal came to see me this morning. He wanted to inform you that the school children are coming for a picnic by the riverside at Govind ghat. I reminded him, that you have given blanket permission for the estate premises to be used whenever they need it, but he felt it was polite to seek your consent anyways. He was also asking about when it would be convenient to visit the site of the new school building. It is coming along well, they are applying concrete to the brick walls now."

He broke off, when Kesh did not answer, and after a moments silence, walked over and stood next to his friend, to peer out at what was holding Kesh's attention.

The duo stood, looking down at the motionless sleeping Sherlock for some time. And then started speaking in the short hand that only friends who have known each other for very long, can have.

"He has come back, broken again….." said Kesh.

"He will heal again," answered Uddhav confidently.

"Provided he does not leave prematurely," replied Kesh.

"Well then, don't let him go."

"It doesn't work that way. He needs to _want_ to stay. _Want_ to heal. I have no control over that."

Uddhav asked the question that had been burning in his mind for long, "Why do you love him so much?"

Kesh took a deep breath and remained silent for a while. When he started speaking, he sounded like he was answering to himself, as if each word were chosen after deliberate consideration, slowly, haltingly…..

"Because he is beautiful in body and in spirit… Because he is brilliant…..Because he is a rare person who will always fight to have his intellect rule over his emotional mind….. Because he is strong… Because he is a bit lost, and chose to come to me for help."

Then, turning to face Uddhav for the first time since he had entered the room, he said, "And because he is _mine_. He just does not know it yet."

* * *

><p>The sun was directly overhead, when Sherlock awoke from a dreamless, refreshed sleep. After a quick shower he bounded down the staircase and strode to the kitchen, footsteps eager and confident; a confidence borne of the conviction of an assured welcome.<p>

Haridas and Meera were busy packing food in some containers. Sherlock greeted them, perched himself on the corner of the table and watched. He absently picked up a cucumber slice from the salad and started munching on it.

Meera stepped forward and slapped his wrist sharply and glared, "Stop grazing. You will spoil your appetite."

Rendered speechless by this assault, Sherlock helplessly looked at Haridas who laughed and said, "We are packing a picnic lunch for Hrishikesh and you. The local school kids are having a picnic at Govind Ghat, a small alcove where the river flow is quite slow. Hrishikesh owns all the land around here, as you know. The school has always been welcome to use the safe spots like the Ghat."

"It is such a beautiful day, he thought you might enjoy spending it outdoors."

"Where is he?"

"He has been waiting for you to wake up. It is good you are ready, maybe you can leave soon. He is outside in the garden, working on his computer."

Sherlock bid them goodbye, and went looking for Kesh.

He was sitting under a tree, laptop balanced on his knees, working intently. He looked up as Sherlock came and broke into an inviting smile, "I hope you rested well, Sherlock. I was rather hoping we spend some time together, have a picnic, swim in the river, and talk…..Is that ok?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Well grab some swimming trunks, and I will go fetch lunch, and we will leave."

To be continued….


	4. Atmanastu-For the Self Alone

Kesh soaked in the sight, as Sherlock swam in the river. Some distance away, about a hundred boys and girls were still splashing around, the air echoed with their excited squeals and shouts as they frolicked and enjoyed themselves.

He watched as each powerful stroke of Sherlock's limbs cut through the water easily, arms and legs glowing in the afternoon sun as they appeared and disappeared in the swollen river currents.

Several minutes later leaning against a tree, Kesh watched Sherlock as he walked towards him, looking like a young god, wet trunks clinging to his toned thighs and groin, abdomen flexing gracefully with every step, chiseled cheekbones and tousled hair casting shadows on his face as he moved.

"_Perfection_," thought Kesh.

"That was exhilarating!" said Sherlock, drying himself, "It has been a long time since I've done this."

"You are an _excellent_ swimmer."

"I know." said Sherlock unselfconsciously, "There just isn't much opportunity to do it in England. It is bloody cold most of the time."

"I thought we could take a walk, it is too crowded and noisy out here," said Kesh, gesturing at the kids running helter skelter.

"Good idea," replied Sherlock.

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later, they made their way out of wild bushes to settle down at a clearing at the peak of a small hillock, which looked down on the river. They could still see the children, but were out of sight themselves. An overhead mango tree provided dense shade.<p>

Kesh had brought their small bags with him, and proceeded to put a picnic mat on the ground. He lay down, waving at Sherlock to indicate he do the same.

They lay side by side, each in their own thoughts, looking up at the branches of the tree and patches of sky visible through it.

A period of silence followed.

"You were right you know. The outcome has not been what I had desired," Sherlock said finally.

"No?"

"No. I thought I was doing it all for John, for his safety. He has moved on. He got married a few months ago. Mary…. Her name is Mary. They had a baby girl just a few days ago."

Kesh was quiet, perceptive eyes gazing at Sherlock, face devoid of expression. Sherlock knew from past experience, that Kesh was that rare individual, a good listener. He listened with his entire being, so his silence did not worry Sherlock.

Sherlock broke his gaze and went back to staring upwards, as he told his tale.

Serbia, returning to England, meeting John, getting punched by John, exoneration by the Yard and the British public, John almost burning to death in a fire, bombs planted below parliament house, John's wedding, the attempted murder at the wedding, his own brilliance-

As he talked, Sherlock could not help but stand up and then pace. There was so much to tell, so much had happened. He strove to stretch his vocabulary to communicate the despair, the angst, the sense of betrayal after having sacrificed so much. He gesticulated urgently with his hands, his eyes darted from side to side, as if he was replaying every moment.

-Magnussen, Janine, Mary's dubious past, getting shot by Mary, Christmas at the Holmes's, John's decision to forgive Mary, Appledore, shooting Magnussen, leaving for Eastern Europe, Moriarty's surprise broadcast, coming back, discovering it was a hoax, John's continued absence in Sherlock's life, the pain and frustration building up, the birth of their daughter.

Kesh continued to watch silently as his friend continued talking, eyes not leaving Sherlock's face, his own still betraying nothing.

At last Sherlock fell quiet. He walked up to where Kesh was sitting now, and sat down, knees bent and hugged close to his body, arms locked around them, chin on top of his knees. He looked at Kesh , and then his eyes flickered away, as he resumed talking, sounding lost, now that the recitation of concrete facts was over.

"I feel angry. I feel betrayed. I come home to an empty flat every day, and think about the times I spent with John. I jumped off a fucking building, I gave up the _Work_ so that I could have that again. Lestrade calls with cases, and I text John to come and join me. More often than not, he is busy at the surgery, or out with Mary, or with their friends. I feel agitated and snipe at everyone. Sometimes, he comes, and I feel elated, and try to show him how brilliant I still am. And he praises me, and says, _that's fantastic_, and I feel drunk with happiness and power."

"When we were together, it felt like it was going to be forever. I never imagined, that he could be happy with someone else. Stupid, _stupid_…..And now they have a child. How am I supposed to do it, Kesh? Day after day, live in the same city, live off the crumbs of his presence, leftover crumbs from his time with Mary and a daughter."

"Its unnatural to be this sad. For a mind as brilliant as mine, to have _sentiment_ win over my functioning day after day, its _hell_."

Sherlock looked at Kesh and held his gaze for a while, and then eyes lowered, he absently pulled at the grass next to his feet as he said, "I fantasize about him when I touch myself. I think about fucking him. Sucking him. About him naked. The body has always been transport to me. He is _not gay_. What is _wrong _with me?" Sherlock's voice rose to a shout, as he threw some plucked grass in frustration and then sighed deeply.

"With all my intellect, I can't find a way out. Can you help?"

Kesh watched the naked anguish and vulnerability on his friend's face. It was decision time, and really there was only one right response. But still, part of him hesitated.

It would be so easy. The object of his love and desire sat there, breathtakingly beautiful, vulnerable, confused, needy….. Just say _Sorry you were hard done by. I understand what you are saying. Life is unfair. You are brilliant. You deserve better. I love you. Come to me, I will give you all that you need….._

It was a new feeling to him, _hesitation_. He examined it curiously.

He stood up abruptly, and walked a bit further away, hands in his trouser pockets and looked out at the surrounding peaks, snow still enveloping them in a purple haze.

"What are you thinking, Kesh?"

When he slowly turned back to face Sherlock, his eyes looked determined but soft.

"Sherlock, humans like validation. When they share their emotions or thoughts, they expect to be understood, consoled, empathized with. It is a very rare person, who is ready to accept the truth in its entirety. "

Sherlock's eyes searched his, jaw clenched as he said, "And you think I don't want to hear the truth? _Me_?"

"On the contrary," came the immediate reply, "I have yet to meet another person who values reality and the truth more than you. The reason for my preface was… You are very dear to me. Once I have said what I must, you may find it unpalatable. You may chose to leave. The thought is …_difficult_."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, as he snapped, "Out with it, Kesh. I'm not a fucking toddler. I need to know what you have to say. We can deal with the rest later."

"Very well," said Kesh as he walked back and sat down opposite Sherlock. Legs crossed, spine straight, hands on his lap, face serene. He watched Sherlock's stony face, his hands clenched tightly around his knees. With a deep breath he started.

"Any analysis is only as good as the premise it is based on. You are a scientist, you know that. If your premise is false, your thought processes will go in the wrong direction. And then _how_ can you achieve the right outcome, _how_ can you achieve clarity?"

Kesh met Sherlock's narrowed eyes calmly.

"What false premises am I operating from?" Sherlock said.

"For now I would like to point out two."

"False premise number one is that you sacrificed everything. That you did it for John. For John's safety. Half of your mental state is due to this. Your anger at non-acknoledgement of your _sacrifice_, your feeling of betrayal."

"Sherlock, in all of creation, every _deliberate_ action is done for the Self alone. No one, _ever_ does anything, for anybody or anything else."

"Your work, you do it because _you_ want the challenge and the thrill of the chase. Let us say, you think you are doing it for the victim or their families, you are still doing it because _you _empathise with them and _you_ are hurting."

"You stayed with John, because _you_ liked being with him. You jumped off a building, because _you_ wanted him to be safe. You arranged his wedding, because _you_ wanted him to be happy. You shot Magnussen because _you_ wanted John and Mary to be safe. You kept texting him, because _you_ wanted his company. You touched yourself thinking of him, because _you_ found it an arousing fantasy. You have come here, because _you_ are seeking answers. _Your_ desire for any outcome outweighs the distaste or the difficulties borne by you. To say you do anything for anyone else is disingenuous."

As Kesh continued, Sherlock's frown was gradually replaced by an intent focused look. _Good, he is really listening now. _

"What about altruistic actions?" Sherlock asked.

"When there is a tragedy like a tsunami or an earthquake, people donate time, money, offer prayers. The so called _altruistic_ actions. Well, if they are born out of thought, they are still for the Self, because _you_ want to feel good about yourself or _you_ want to avoid guilt or _you_ want to demonstrate compassion in a concrete way."

"Lets talk about actions which are not the product of thought, that are _spontaneous._ Like when someone is falling down, your hand shoots out to support them; or, when a cruelty or injustice is happening in front of you, you spontaneously rebel against it, even if it is happening to someone else; or, indeed when there is a tragedy like a natural disaster, and you spontaneously help….."

"Even these spontaneous actions are for the Self alone, only in this case the Self has _expanded to include the other_, or indeed to include the world. Something inside you recognizes the essential _oneness _of creation. This is the _higher_ Self, this is your reality, not this petty, small individuality that you so proudly sport."

Kesh watched as Sherlock absorbed what he was saying, with single pointed attention, and knew that every word he said was being recorded in that giant computer of a brain, and will be ruminated and reflected over, word to word.

He paused for a while, as he waited. When Sherlock gave him a small nod, he continued.

"False premise number two: You love John Watson. This accounts for the second half of your mental state. Sherlock, don't confuse attachment with love."

"What is the difference?" Sherlock said in a hoarse voice.

"_Attachment_ is psychological dependence on another person or thing. _Love_ comes from a standpoint of absolute self sufficiency and fullness."

"If you depend on someone or something for your happiness, for validation, for self esteem, for a sense of purpose, you are attached. The problem is attachment always ends in sorrow."

"You think you love John. He validates you, tells you that you are brilliant, reaffirms your good opinion of yourself, makes you feel important. You need him, for these things. So if he is there, you are happy; if he is missing, you are unhappy. This is not love. It is dependence, it is attachment. John's opinion of you, is just that, _an opinion_. He can change it anytime."

"Love blossoms and _surges_ forth, regardless of what the other person feels or where he is. _First_ you have to be a complete person, and only _then_ you can love another. When you need another to complete you, it is not love. Do you see?"

"The problem is that we can never be _physically_ independent. We depend on nature for our basic survival, on the society for our other needs. But _psychological_ freedom is not only possible, but also desirable. When you are fullness, you are _free_, you are able to radiate true love."

"It takes time, deliberation and effort. But once you start thinking in the right way, any attachment can be overcome. You have to decide if you want to go back to London, and live a miserable, frustrated life tethered to John and his presence. Or if you want to go back, complete and full in yourself, and love him from that standpoint, not because you need him, but because he exists, you know him and love him."

"There is more to you than the sum of your parts. Your body is the most beautiful I have ever seen, your mind incomparable. But there is the essential Sherlock behind both, who is complete in himself, who is the pure beautiful existence. Find him. Stick with him. He will never leave you. He will guide you."

Kesh took a deep breath and said finally, "Sherlock, you are blessed with a superlative intelligence and a naturally contemplative mind. I have said what I have to say. Possibly I have said too much. Now it is up to you, to reflect, to contemplate, to decide." He fell silent.

After a while, Sherlock abruptly got up and walked to the edge. He stood looking far away, as he stated, "You knew this would happen."

"It was always a possibility. Attachment sooner or later brings sorrow."

Turning around and meeting Kesh's eyes, Sherlock asked curiously, without censure, "Why didn't you say something?"

"You didn't ask," came the simple answer. "You were convinced of the actions you needed to take. Unsolicited advice, is the most useless thing in this world; the listener is not in a frame of mind to accept it. And besides this kind of crisis is necessary in life. It is desirable. No one grows in happiness. Adversity teaches you. Sorrow has _depth_. You grow. It is painful, _but by God, you grow."_

Sherlock sat down on a rock, and looked away again. After a while, he said, "Leave me alone, Kesh. I need to think."

After a heartbeat, he felt a light touch on his shoulder, as his friend said, "Take as long as you need. Just make sure you eat sometimes, and come home to sleep, no matter how late it is."

* * *

><p>Haridas sat on the steps of the front porch. His shawl was doing a poor job of keeping him warm. Crickets sang their song, as the breeze swayed the branches of the trees around. The clock on the wall of living room was visible through the open front door, and showed 11.45 pm. He had been sitting there for three hours.<p>

_Earlier, Kesh had come home, just after sundown. He came into the kitchen and sat on a chair, looking somber. Haridas saw the look on his master's face, and instructed Meera in a quiet whisper to leave. He made a steaming cup of chai tea, and placed it in front of Kesh and busied himself, without disturbing Kesh's contemplation. _

_After a while, Kesh said, "Haridas, Sherlock will be coming late tonight. It is possible he may not be around for a few days. Keep an eye on him, try to get him to eat, but he is not to be disturbed."_

"_Is everything okay?" Haridas couldn't resist asking as he came and stood in front of Kesh. To his dismay, Kesh leant forward and wordlessly rested his head on Haridas's abdomen. His hand spontaneously went to Kesh's head and started stroking his hair. Kesh was silent for a while, then angled his head up to look at the man who had been a father to him for most of his life and said, "It will be. Don't worry, Haridas, it will be. We just have to be patient. We have to wait."_

Coming back to the present, Haridas peered at the clock again. As he waited, his mind drifted to images from over a year ago when Sherlock was last here. He thought of the thin, pale, sick man, bruised all over, sunken eyes…..

_Kesh running into the house urgently, carrying an unconscious Sherlock in his arms; doctors summoned; Kesh changing IV drips; Kesh massaging Sherlock's body with gentle hands as he slept; Kesh sleeping on an armchair, night after night as Sherlock slept; Kesh changing the bedding when despite their best efforts Sherlock soiled himself; Kesh assisting Sherlock as he walked three days later; Kesh and Haridas giving Sherlock his first bath in days, Kesh shampooing Sherlock long locks, as they laughed and exchanged snide remarks and crude jokes like long term friends; Kesh and Sherlock sitting out on the terrace talking for hours; Kesh watching as Sherlock left, a small frown on his usually calm countenance….._

Heavy dragging footsteps broke his reverie, and he hastily stood up from his cramped position. Sherlock walked towards him, coat billowing behind him, nose and cheeks reddened with the cold, an inscrutable expression on his face.

He recoiled at seeing Haridas, frail body shivering slightly in the cold, standing there, hands folded with respect.

"Haridas! Why are you still awake?" exclaimed Sherlock.

"Just wanted to make sure you got home safely, Sherlock. If you give me five minutes, I will heat up dinner for you."

"I'm not hungry, it's all right. You go to bed. And don't stay up for me, it's not necessary."

"I'm sorry Sherlock. I did not mean to annoy you."

Sherlock just gave his arm a squeeze, as he walked past him, to his room. The sound of the bedroom door clicking close resounded with finality in the silent house.

To be continued….


	5. Mananam-Contemplation

The midday sun was hidden by dense clouds, the breeze brisk and cool, as Vedant adjusted his limbs for what felt like the hundredth time. He had been there for four hours now, watching Sherlock. _Why_, he did not know, but still he faithfully kept his eyes peeled to the still figure, which had not moved even an inch in all this time.

_Haridas had summoned him urgently at half five in the morning to deliver his instructions, "Keep a watch on him. Hrishikesh has said he is not to be disturbed, so stay far away. This is some food, if you see an opportunity, place it in front of him. Partha will relieve you at noon. If he summons you, do whatever he says. This is very important."_

So Vedanta sat, looking at Sherlock, who was dressed in beige linen trousers, white T-shirt and sitting on his huge black coat. Cross legged, elbows on his knees, hands folded in front of him, fingertips touching his chin, staring fixedly into the distance. Occasionally his eyes darted back and forth, as if he were chasing something with his eyes. But otherwise he was transfixed, like a marble statue. Earlier Vedanta had slowly walked over as close to Sherlock as he dared, and left the containers with food and fruits and bottles of water, just at the edge of his eyesight. And left again.

He sat watching.

_Is he praying? Why has he come out here to pray? Why am I supposed to watch him while he prays? Who do these foreigners pray to? They don't even know any Gods. _

_Wonder why he is here? Hrishikesh bhaiyya seems to respect him a lot. Wonder where he found him? It is not my business anyway. I am a simple man. I must just do my job. If Hrishikesh bhaiyya wants something, I must do it. _

_Look at his hair, so disheveled, so long. Why does he not cut his hair properly? They must not have good barbers in foreign. I know some guys who would be happy to go to foreign and cut these people's hair. He is so pale. Maybe they don't eat much meat in foreign. But he is so big, like a giant. Hrishikesh bhaiyya is so tall, but even he has to tilt his head a bit, to look at him. I like James Bond. He is like a giant too. I like his car…_

His ruminations were disturbed by Partha creeping up to him suddenly. Careful not to make much sound on broken twigs and stone, they exchanged places after a whispered exchange. Partha sat down and took guard.

* * *

><p>Haridas sat in the kitchen, at the edge of the chair, twisting and turning the thin, cotton kitchen towel in his hands. He again peered out of the window to see if Uddhav's car had arrived.<p>

It was four days ago, that Hrishikesh had cryptically given his instructions. For three days now a solemn atmosphere had settled into the household. For three days now, Sherlock left before sunrise and came home late at night. After that first night, Haridas had taken to scurrying away the moment he heard footsteps and pretending he was in the kitchen doing chores when Sherlock came back. He would try to get Sherlock to eat something, with the occasional success.

Hrishikesh and Uddhav had been quite busy, with meetings. It was the biannual get together with his factory executives from Surat, Baroda, Ludhiana, indeed many parts of the country. Usually these affairs were less like meetings and more like celebrations, lots of banter, eating, drinking and laughing. But not this time. There were meetings, and then Hrishikesh retired to his rooms or sat out in the terrace, leaving the task of entertaining the visiting staff to Uddhav. He was his usual gracious self with everyone, and no one could realize that anything was amiss.

But Haridas knew him. His master was quiet, lost in thought and withdrawn. There was no change in Sherlock's behaviour. The whole household was quieter as well, as if taking their cue from its head. Haridas was worried.

_That first morning, Sherlock had come out of his bedroom well before sunrise, only to almost stumble on Haridas's sleeping form on a mat on the ground. Haridas had taken to sleeping outside Sherlock's door, ever since he had come last year, sick and injured. He had seen no reason to change this practice. _

"_Oh for God's sake, Haridas. Why are you still sleeping here?" chided Sherlock, bending down with a gentle hand on Haridas's arm. "I am not sick anymore, I am not going to cry out in the night for you. You must sleep in your own bed."_

"_Sorry, Sherlock. I just thought I should be close by if you needed anything."_

"_I don't need anything, and if I did I am perfectly capable of coming downstairs and waking you. Now listen, I am going out, and won't be back till later. Do not wait up, and do not worry. Okay?"_

Haridas had since then, sent Vedanta and Partha and Shankar and others to take up a vigil, keeping an eye on Sherlock in turns. They all came back and reported the same thing. Sometimes, he was just walking along paths near the river or the hills, sometimes he paced around one spot, sometimes he shouted to himself and pulled his long hair; but mostly, he sat for hours sitting still and doing nothing. Vedanta insisted he was praying.

Haridas jumped out of the chair as soon as he heard Uddhav's car pull up. He accosted Uddhav and dragged him to the kitchen to talk.

"This has been going on for three days. Can't you find out what is going on? Have they had a fight? Can't you do something?" his voice rose to a high pitch in desperation.

"Calm down, Haridas. Everything will be fine. I don't know what has happened and it is not our place to know these things. This is between them. And Hrishikesh is not worried. Why are you worried? Do you think that our Kesh will ever let anything happen to _Sherlock_? Do you think people like you and I are in any position to advise Kesh? Trust him, let it be. Everything will be fine," he repeated as he broke off, not sure what else to say. It would not do to let the old man see, how disturbed he himself was, with what was going on.

* * *

><p>It was after ten at night, that Sherlock strode into Kesh's room and out into the terrace, where Kesh sat on an armchair, facing the mountains, gazing into the distance in the moonlight. Light from Kesh's room spilled out onto the terrace and illuminated part of his face. Moonlight reflected off the marble floor and cast an intimate, cool tone to the backdrop.<p>

Kesh turned towards the sounds of Sherlock's footsteps and gave a small smile, as he started to get up. Sherlock waved him down as he came and stood in front of Kesh, leaning against the balustrade. The two looked at each other for a while.

Sherlock features were peaceful, his gaze keen and penetrating as he flicked his eyes over his friend. Hope and a suppressed joy reflected on Kesh's face, the dimples making an appearance as a smile started creeping in. Their silent communication seemed to suddenly cross some sort of threshold as both grinned in delight and relief.

Sherlock came closer and gestured for Kesh to spread his legs. He sat on the ground, between Kesh's knees, letting his head rest on Kesh's chest. Both looked at the mountains as they breathed in tandem for several minutes, enjoying the quiet and the closeness. Kesh waited, as he held Sherlock close with one arm encircling his shoulders, and another gently stroking his hair back from his forehead.

After a while, Sherlock angled his head back, hair rising in static as it rubbed against Kesh's shirt. He looked at Kesh's face upside down, as he said, "It has been rough. The most….. _intense_ intellectual exercise I have ever undergone."

"I know."

"You were right."

"I know."

"I had to rearrange _everything_. Dismantle huge foundations of preconceptions. Physically drag erroneous notions and throw them out. Deconstruct every image and belief I had and then put it back together," Sherlock looked ahead again, and blindly pulled at the hand hugging his shoulder. He brought Kesh's palm in front of him and buried his face in it, and mumbled, "It _hurt_, Kesh. It was painful."

"I know."

Sherlock continued in a husky, emotional voice, "For a while, I was _afraid_, afraid that I would lose myself. That _nothing _would remain. What am I, if not all my memories, opinions, beliefs, prejudices, emotions, convictions?"

Shrugging off Kesh's hands, Sherlock turned around and sat cross legged, Kesh's knees gently brushing his shoulders, and looked up at Kesh's face.

He cupped his palms in front of his face, as if holding something in them, he said, "I took out everyone and everything from my mind palace. John, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, everyone I know and care about and feel that I need to make me complete. Even you…"

Kesh looked on, eyes glittering with unshed tears, a tender smile full of insight on his face.

Sherlock continued in an earnest voice, "I took out every memory, every emotion, every person out, and let them surround me, but from _outside_ of me. Where I found _need_, I examined it , until the need dissolved. And I found to my surprise, even without _any_ of them, I still stood. Solid as ever. I was who I was. I did not need anything." He shook his head.

"It feels strange. Like being completely empty and yet so full, that I am spilling over on all sides. No longer an amalgamation of parts, but undivided. Do you understand?" a pleading note in his voice, as Sherlock tried to stretch the boundaries of language to communicate his experience.

"I do, Sherlock," replied Kesh smiling, even as a tear rolled down his cheek.

Raising a hand, Sherlock wiped the tear away with his finger and said with a tone of wonder, "You saved me. You _saved_ me again. You plunged down into the depths of my despair and pulled me out. _Who are you?_" He traced Kesh's face with delicate fingers, light barely there touches.

Face creased with a radiant smile, Kesh replied, "A friend. Someone who pointed the way. Don't forget though, it is you who walked on the path."

"I still have so much to learn. Will you teach me?"

"Do you have to ask?"

Sherlock rested his head on Kesh's thigh, as they fell silent again.

Sherlock felt exhausted, drained. He had not slept for more than a few minutes at a time for the past 72 hours. Contrarily he also felt a sense of satisfaction, of coming home, as he allowed himself to rest in Kesh's company.

Soon though, the sting of the crisp night breeze caught up with him, and he shivered delicately.

"We need to go inside now, you are cold."

Sherlock got up, swaying a bit, and walked first into Kesh's room. And came to a sudden halt.

Perched on a square marble pedestal, hidden from the sight of anyone entering the room, was a violin, its bow resting against the graceful neck, glossy varnish shining in the warm light. Sherlock walked closer, and raised a hand to touch its curves with reverent fingers. Delicate touches caressed the dark vertical grains of the spruce inlayed with an intricate pattern of iridescent shells and stones, exquisite craftsmanship evident in every detail.

A hushed silence reigned. Kesh stood by his desk, hand gripping the back of his chair as he waited.

Finally Sherlock turned around and said, voice husky with wonder, "You missed me."

"Yes."

"You bought this because you missed me."

"Yes."

He raised his eyes and asserted, "You love me….you love me _passionately._"

Guileless eyes met his, as Kesh simply responded, "Yes."

There was no challenge in his response. It was a simple affirmation, without pretense, without fear. Sherlock marveled at the strength of character needed to reveal this nakedness, this vulnerability to another human being. He said hoarsely, "Kesh, I don't do very well with relationships."

Kesh let out a soft laugh, as he replied, "That is good. Because I don't want a relationship with you." Answering Sherlock's frown, he continued, "Sherlock, relationships are _relative_. With you I want _unity_, if you choose to gift it to me. I …...cannot accept any less."

As his words sank in, a visceral cry of exhilaration escaped Sherlock and he closed his eyes in a struggle to hold himself together. Triumph surged resoundingly through his being, fatigue fell away, vanquished by a surge of joy so powerful, he shook with it. This, only this….just _this_. He stood there for a long time, eyes closed, body shaking with emotions so potent, that he felt he was soaring.

When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at Kesh, eyes blazing with a consuming intensity that felt like it could burn everything its path. Kesh noticeably swayed as he tried to withstand the onslaught of the heated gaze with equanimity.

"I need to play it, right now!" growled Sherlock as he lifted the instrument gently and tuned it with expert fingers.

He walked up and stood close to Kesh, head inclined, faces barely apart, as he whispered, "I need to play this for you." So saying, he turned around and walked outside, Kesh following closely behind.

* * *

><p>Standing proud and confident, under the swaying branches of the banyan tree, legs slightly spread, Sherlock gestured with his bow for Kesh to sit down. And with a smile gracing his lips, he tucked the violin under his chin, took stance and closed his eyes.<p>

The first tremulous notes, pierced the silence of the surroundings, hesitantly, as Sherlock acclimatized to the individual feel of the violin and found his rhythm.

Then giving himself up to music, Sherlock played.

He played in triumph and exultation, jubilant notes echoing in the thin mountain air. He played to express his gratitude to the universe which had brought him here, to all the twists and turns of his life which had ended with him at this spot, in the company of this one man. He played to express his disbelief at his soul's journey through the convoluted labyrinth of emotions and events, to express his incredulity at having found himself. He played to let the love burst forth as though from the ruptured dams of himself. He let his fingers bleed, as he used the instrument to convey a prayer to the totality, which had deemed him fit for this revelation.

The violent pace slowed down slowly to give way to soft dulcet tones as he played to express his indebtedness to Kesh, to express the regard, the love, the esteem for his friend.

And then he played to seduce, erotic sensuous melodies flowing, as he expressed his desire, his longing for union. And then the scales climbed higher and higher as he allowed his ecstasy to flow, at the consummation of that union, the overpowering feeling of oneness coursing through his veins, burning brighter and brighter, until he could not withstand it, and had to let his violin fall.

He stood there panting, chest heaving as he took in great big gulps of air, sweat dripping from his brow, body trembling with combined effort and joy. He opened his eyes finally to look at Kesh, to see if he understood.

Kesh stood transfixed in awe, lips parted, eyes glowing with a raw hunger, he did not bother to conceal. They stared at each other for a long time.

"You are so _achingly_ beautiful. How are you so beautiful? You make me want to write poetry….. You make me want to fall at your feet in supplication….. _How_ are you even possible?" said Kesh in a hushed whisper, voice hoarse and tremulous.

Sherlock put the violin down gently and was with Kesh in two strides. Bodies almost touching, he raised his right hand, to grasp the nape of Kesh's neck with a sweaty palm. He pulled him closer and squeezed. Voice gone subsonic with desire, he whispered against Kesh's lips,"I need to be inside you. Will you let me have you?"

Looking deeply at the flecks of the verdigris eyes, Kesh replied, so softly that it was more of a physical vibration that Sherlock felt, "It would be my honour."

Sherlock let out a loud groan, as keeping his eyes locked on to Kesh's, he moved both hands to cup his face. He leaned in to close the last few inches of space. Soft warm lips parted under his, as he explored, breathing in the sandalwood scent of Kesh's body. He sucked on each lip in turn, before his tongue found its way into the hot moistness of Kesh's mouth. He pulled Kesh's body close, cupping his arse to rub the matching hardness against his hard cock. Gasping with pure lust, he plunged into Kesh's mouth, teasing, flicking, tasting. His hips moved in rhythm, large hands clenching and unclenching each arse cheek, as he ground their erections together. He feasted on everything on offer like a man starved.

He felt drunk with desire, as he plundered and sampled and _took_ and _took_. So drunk, that at first he did not notice it; the full body shivering, the pounding heartbeat, a clenched fist holding the front of his shirt in a death grip, the inexpert, artless movement of Kesh's lips, the hitched irregular breaths….

When it slowly pierced through his haze, he withdrew gently, planting soft reassuring kisses as he leaned back. He took in Kesh's appearance.

Kesh looked wild, eyes huge like saucers, pupils fully blown, hair in complete disarray. He was breathing in short gasps, entire body trembling, as he continued to hold Sherlock's shirt, as if it was his only source of support.

Sherlock moved to cup his face, and darted his eyes over Kesh's face to find raw panic overtaking all the signs of arousal.

"Shhh….It's all right. Come here, come here, it's okay," he said soothingly as he cradled Kesh's trembling body into his arms and tucked his head on his shoulder. Running reassuring circles on Kesh's back, he waited for his breathing to return to normal. "I've got you. Calm down."

After some time, he led Kesh to the armchair and helped him sit down. Kneeling in front of him, he smoothed his friends hair down, as he cautiously asked, "What is it, Kesh?"

A flash of embarrassment flickered in Kesh's eyes as he looked away. To see his normally unflappable friend this unsure seemed surreal, like he had entered into an alternate dimension.

Gently he raised Kesh's chin with two fingers, as he peered into his eyes, "Kesh… have you…have you ever been with a man before?"

After a pause, a small shake of the head.

"A woman?"

Another small shake.

A heartbeat as Sherlock absorbed this and then asked, "Are you even _gay_?"

Kesh met his eyes as he replied, "I don't know."

"But you are willing to let me have you?"

"Yes," was the soft response.

"Why?"

Kesh's simple answer was, "Because I love you."

With an amused snort, Sherlock leaned forwards and gently rubbed noses with Kesh, "You don't have to…..We don't have to…..do anything…..Do you even want to?"

Kesh took a deep breath and replied, "Desperately."

Gathering him in his arms, Sherlock said softly, "Then we'll figure it out. We can go slow….. Or wait…..whatever you need." He held on for some time, then leaned back again and said with a smirk, "Maybe this time I can teach you a few things," he said arching an eyebrow.

Heartened by the attempt at light banter, Kesh responded cheekily, "I'm a fast learner."

"We'll see, Kesh…..But I must warn you," said Sherlock as he brought his lips close to Kesh's ears and nipped playfully at his earlobe, "Once I get started I am told I am _quite_ insatiable and _very_ demanding."

Kesh visibly gulped, as his hands gripped Sherlock's arms and Sherlock's loud exuberant laughter rang out into the darkness.

To be continued….


	6. Yogastha Kuru Karmane-Work for the Whole

The crunching of the gravel beneath his shoes, lent a rhythmic beat to Kesh's wide strides. The air smelt misty, dawn on the cusp of arrival, fog lending an ethereal air to the vista. It was his favourite part of the day; when manmade sounds were silent and only nature sang its songs. As he turned around a bend on the path, he startled a peacock into scurrying in the bushes. He laughed.

It had been hard to concentrate this morning, when he sat down for meditation. Images of the previous evening kept flashing into his mind. Holding Sherlock close, Sherlock when he saw the violin, Sherlock playing the violin. Kesh did not understand much about music, but even he could recognize the passion and abandon that Sherlock had played with. He was aware he was witnessing something sublime, a stunning man, playing transcendental music, as if for some minutes; Divinity itself had chosen to personally grace the Earth with its presence.

And then Sherlock had _touched_ him. In ways Kesh had never been touched before, murmuring words Kesh had never imagined directed at him. Sherlock, who he had loved for over a year, Sherlock who was unattainable, Sherlock who had not looked back at him, who he thought was out of his grasp. Touching him, kissing him, Kesh was able to breathe his scent, taste his skin, his breath, so intense, oh God , he had never thought it could be like this, _so intense_, like his whole body had caught _fire_… and he had behaved like such a _fool._

_Wonder what Sherlock thinks of me. Probably thinks I am a blithering idiot, so moved with just some kissing…... But he was pressing his erection to mine. It felt wonderful, but frightening…..What if he had not stopped? What if he had stripped me and taken me right there? He certainly seemed to want to…._I_ would of course have let him…...Would it have hurt? But he wouldn't hurt me….His erection felt so big. What does it feel like to have something that big inside of you?... Was he disappointed? Will he touch me again, or will he think it is not worth the trouble? Will he let me touch him?..._

"Hrishikesh! Hrishikesh! Wait!" came the shouts from behind him, shorter legs hastening to catch up.

"Haridas! What's the matter?" he said turning around.

"Sherlock didn't come home last night! I kept thinking I should wake you, but couldn't decide what to do. When Vedant left him at nine o'clock, he was already up the driveway. But he did not come," Haridas said frantically.

"Calm down, Haridas," said Hrishikesh, as he put his arm around Haridas's shoulder with a beaming smile. "He was with me, in fact he is right now sleeping in my room. Don't worry, all is well."

Seeing the first proper smile on Kesh's face after so many days, Haridas sagged in relief. "Is he all right?" he asked hesitantly, meaning _are both of you all right_.

"We are fine. We just had a few things to get sorted out," said Kesh, answering the unasked question. "We did sleep late though, and he has not slept much for three days. So don't wake him."

A relieved and happy Haridas returned home, as Kesh continued on his walk.

* * *

><p>Sherlock adjusted himself, trying to get into a comfortable position at the back seat of the car, as Vedant battled the chaotic traffic with its rickshaws, buses full of tourists and local folk, throngs of pedestrians, meandering cows and small trucks with all manner of goods. Horns blared, people shouted, stray dogs barked, ineffective traffic police tried to discipline rule breakers (which was almost everyone) with piercing whistles. At least Sherlock was spared the fumes of the vehicles and onslaught of fried foods from roadside eateries, as the car was air conditioned.<p>

He had woken up at noon, refreshed and joyful. Haridas informed him, that Kesh had gone with Uddhav to visit the site of the new school building, and would like Sherlock to join him there. A quick shower and hurried bites of some fruit followed, as Sherlock's body seemed to want to fly to meet his friend. The previous night, Sherlock had collapsed on Kesh's bed, too tired to go to his own and fallen into a deep, contended sleep.

Finally they arrived.

Vedant led Sherlock into a ramshackle yard, with a few chairs arranged in a haphazard fashion and a loud rotating fan. Two middle aged women were seated, hard at work with some papers and tattered files.

Once he ensured that Sherlock was seated, he ran out. He returned with a plump, middle aged man, sporting thick glasses and a wide smile. He introduced himself, "Welcome, Sherlock Sir, my name is Mr Rathod. I am the school principal," as he did Namaste and bowed low. Sherlock stood up and shook his hand. Mr Rathod kept talking and explaining as he led Sherlock down a path on a dirt road.

"Please Sir, come this way. Hrishikesh bhaiyya said that we should expect you. He is on site with the workers and the kids. Our old school is in very poor shape, and the number of children we have, have doubled. It has been very hard. We tried many times, to get the state government to help us, but the bureaucracy in India is too much. Finally the town folk suggested, it is best we approach Hrishikesh bhaiyya."

"You see, we have become quite used to approaching Hrishikesh bhaiyya when we have a problem," he explained. "Bhaiyya gave us the money to build the school, and he even got engineers to design the layout. And he is paying for the builders and materials and everything. We just finished our final exams, so we have two months to get the school finished before monsoons come. It is impossible to build during the rains, you see. The children also volunteered to help."

They came to a huge open ground, by the river banks. The river seemed calmer here, gentle flow with small waves lapping the edge of the ground. A large L-shaped one storey structure, obviously unfinished was visible, bare bricks lining some walls, some having already been covered with concrete. Workers were diligently plastering the only remaining unplastered quarter of one outer wall.

A loud roar of laughter broke out in a group standing next to wall, paint tins everywhere. Seven young boys in their teens, wearing just trousers, brandishing paint brushes were listening to Kesh, who stood in the middle of the group. A few teenage girls were also around, stacking piles of bricks, arranging paint tins, and paint stained rags for the boys.

Kesh stood, bare to the waist, muscles rippling in the midday sun, as he applied beige paint, and talked. The boys were giggling as they were also hard at work painting. A crotchety ladder bore the weight of a youngster who was urgently yelling at one of the girls to get something.

Mr Rathod led Sherlock to Uddhav, who stood near a make shift bench covered with papers. It appeared to be architect designs printed on plotting paper. He was arguing with two men, about the merits of window location and sunlight.

Sherlock came and stood next to Uddhav, without interrupting, eyes trained on Kesh who, unaware of his presence, continued to jest with the children. Some workers had joined their group, wearing half dhotis around their torsos, emaciated bodies gleaming with sweat on display. They too sported toothy grins, and disbelieving looks.

Sporting a whimsical smile, Sherlock stood there, watching this extraordinary man, who had spectacularly fallen apart in his arms the previous night, and now despite being the benefactor, stood shoulder to shoulder with workers and beneficiaries, doing hard labour. The dichotomy was disconcerting.

_What had he not seen? How had he allowed his vision to become so narrow, restricted to Baker Street and five individuals, that he failed to see? He had failed to observe! Stupid, stupid…_

Uddhav, having finished his conversation with the men, came and stood next to Sherlock, as they both watched Kesh.

"Hello, Sherlock!"

"Good afternoon, Uddhav," Sherlock said, gesturing to Kesh, "He asked that I join him here."

"Yes, I know. He thought you two could have lunch together. He has not eaten yet, I'll call him in some time."

The two watched silently, letting the voices and laughter envelop them. "Do you know what he is doing, Sherlock?"

Sherlock quirked one eyebrow at Uddhav.

"You would think he is helping out with painting. Well he is doing that as well. But in reality he is getting to know the children and the workers. He will get to know about their families, about their living conditions, about problems they are facing. And then, he will come to me with instructions, to deliver money, food rations for months at a time, bank guarantees, uniforms, warm clothes for winter, building materials to repair their houses… That is what Kesh does, that is what Kesh _is_."

Sherlock stood silently, as he absorbed this, aware that Uddhav meant more than to commend Kesh.

"I have seen him help build schools, hospitals, old people's homes. He sees a need, he finds the best man for the job, gives money, encouragement, whatever help is needed. And then he forgets about it. And you know what? He never takes credit. He does not go to their opening ceremonies or any functions. He does not allow them to be named after him. He declines all efforts to commemorate him, in any way. Kesh always says, _Uddhav, whatever I have does not belong to me. It belongs to the Whole. The Totality will tell me where it needs to be distributed. That is all I am, a conduit. It is a grave error to think you are doing anything. What needs to happen, happens at its allotted time. Anyone who thinks it is they who are doing something are insane."_

They stood silently for a bit longer.

"Management of vast amounts of money should require a team of people. Yet, I have never seen anyone except you helping Kesh. How do you manage?" asked Sherlock.

"Well, it is quite simple. He just gives and forgets. He does not claim any tax benefits, he does not ask for book keeping from anyone. In fact most of them do send monthly reports, but neither Kesh nor I go through them. As I said, he finds the right person for the job, and then hands it over. "

"But do people not cheat, embezzle?"

"In all the years I have worked with him, it has happened only once. Kesh is a good judge of people. And everyone respects him, feels loyal to him"

"What happened that one time?"

"Kesh confronted him, told him the error of his ways and found another man. End of story. Did not hand him to the police or anything. Said the universe will look after it….He is the best human being I know. I have known him for many years. He deserves everything that is good and beautiful in this world," said Uddhav meaningfully as he looked intently at Sherlock.

Sherlock turned to face Uddhav, letting his face fall open, as he responded, "I know, Uddhav. That is what he should and will have."

Uddhav gazed at Sherlock for a while, and then gave a relieved smile. "That is all I ask for."

They stood in harmony for a while longer.

"Do the kids have problems in their homes then?" asked Sherlock, gesturing towards the children.

"Quite often, yes. Mostly it is related to poverty. Father losing his job, or his crops failing. Too many mouths to feed, not enough education, no savings, a hand to mouth existence, debt, inability to pay debt, alcoholism, then abuse, physical and verbal, further poverty…..It is a vicious cycle. Kesh does whatever he can to break the cycle. I have seen him visit huts to talk, to give, to threaten, to protect…..absolute strangers. One does what one can. He does more than anyone I know."

They started ambling slowly towards the group. "What about you, Uddhav? Tell me about your family."

"I have an old mother and younger sister, Radha. She is getting married in a fortnight actually."

"And what about you? Are you married?"

"Not yet, but Kesh thinks I should marry Meera."

"The young girl who cooks?"

"Yes"

"Do you love her though? Why is Kesh telling you who to marry?"

"He is not _telling_ me, it was just a suggestion. But if Kesh is suggesting it, I have to take it seriously. He is both like an older brother and a father. And he is the wisest man, I have ever met. But _Meera_, God, she is a live one. I am not looking forward to asking _her_!

Kesh must have caught sight of them, as he looked up and with flashing dimples, handed the paint brush to a boy and jogged towards them. Sweat running down his brown torso, he stopped in front of them, "Sherlock, welcome. Let me introduce you to everyone," so saying he pulled Sherlock by the arm towards the motley group.

* * *

><p>The sounds of Kesh's laughter and Sherlock's deep chuckles resounded in the driveway, as both made their way into the house, well after nine at night.<p>

It had been an exhilarating afternoon for both. After a shared lunch, Sherlock too had joined the men and boys to help. Shrugging off his T-shirt, folding his linen trousers, chucking off his trainers, barefoot and half naked, he had plunged into working. Painting, carrying bricks over to expedite the building, going over the blueprints, proposing and arguing about the size of the play areas, the advisability of cutting the lone mango tree on the ground, verses changing plans and building around it….

He had a pleasant ache all over his body, he was covered with dirt, paint, sweat. He had been ogled at and touched by everyone he had met that day. First it was the children and workers. Then they seemed to bring their friends and acquaintances. They stood in groups and unashamedly gaped and gestured. When staring was not enough, they came closer and either wanted to shake his hand or touch his pale skin. It _should_ have been annoying, but somehow wasn't. Kesh's delighted laughs and Uddhav's eye rolls, made it all somehow an experience, worth treasuring.

Haridas watched with a smile as both his masters stumbled in, clothes stained with paint, faces hastily scrubbed to remove dirt, devilish smiles on their faces.

"We have already had dinner, Haridas. I think it is shower time and then bed time," said Kesh.

So saying, they climbed the first floor. As they stood on the landing and looked at each other, a heavy silence descended.

Taking matters into his own hand, Kesh finally broke the silence, "Where would you like to sleep tonight?"

Sherlock stepped closer, holding eye contact with Kesh, "In your bed, if you will have me, if it does not seem too inappropriate," he said huskily, gesturing towards the ground floor.

"They are my family, Sherlock. My own people. I have nothing to hide from them," said Kesh, as he stepped even closer.

Sherlock completed the distance with a gentle embrace. Both stood there in the silence, for a while, breathing each other in. Sherlock leaned back a bit and whispered against Kesh's lips, "I would like to kiss you properly, but I need to get clean first. Meet you in your room in some time?"

Sherlock stood under the hot jets of the shower, as he attempted to wash the grime of the day away. A gentle smile graced his face, as he thought back over the day. It had been _fantastic_, he had not felt so carefree for a long long time.

_Just over a week ago, I was at Baker Street, crying over an imagined hurt. Burdened with confused thinking, suffering from the narrow perspective which results from being too entrenched in one's petty life problems. I could not have imagined then, that a week later, I would be here, washing off dirt and smiling. Life is strange. _

_There is a man waiting downstairs for me. An extraordinary man. Who loves me. Who knows everything about me, and still loves me… He is waiting there, willing to give his body to me, because he loves me… Fuck, a virgin! A bona fide, shy virgin. So sophisticated with the ways of the world, well travelled and so wise. And a fucking virgin….. I have to be careful. He panicked yesterday, because I was too aggressive. Control yourself, Sherlock. This man deserves so much more than a fast, hard shag._

Briskly drying himself, throwing on a t-shirt and soft cotton pajamas, Sherlock flew down the stairs and into Kesh's room.

* * *

><p>The bed side lamp bathed the bedroom in a warm, intimate glow. Sherlock and Kesh both lay on their sides, over the feather soft duvet, facing each other and supporting their heads with their hands. They had been talking for some time. About the day, About the school.<p>

"Most people your age, and your resources would have a goal, Kesh. Either an ambition for success or to better the world. What makes you different?"

"Sherlock, we live for about 70-80 years. We spend our life working for something. Then we die. Not an iota of difference is made to the bigger picture. The world has seen entire empires come and go, what to talk about an individual person."

"If everyone thought that, how could the world survive?"

"Like it always has and will. The only purpose of our existence, is to try to understand yourself, discover yourself, be happy, to do what needs to be done in a situation and then let go. What else is there?"

Sherlock held Kesh's eyes, as a soft look passed on his face. The warmth of the light, reflecting off his curls, gave his face a golden glow, enticing eyes looking on.

A lull fell in their conversation, as Kesh drank in the sight, expression open and hungry.

Lifting an errant curl from Kesh's forehead, Sherlock said softly, "What do you want , Kesh?"

"Can I touch you?" Kesh asked hesitantly.

"Kesh, there isn't a part of or crevice in my body that you have not touched, handled, cleaned," Sherlock said with a smirk.

"That wasn't the same, I wasn't trying to…." Kesh broke off.

Raising an eyebrow, Sherlock said looking affronted, "Are you telling me, you were _not_ lusting after my cock, while I was peeing in the jar you were holding?"

"What….Sherlock, I never…." spluttered Kesh as he tried to deny it, outraged, till he caught the amused gleam in Sherlock's eyes.

And Sherlock laughed, a full bodied belly laugh, curling up his body, rolling around in mirth, pointing his finger at Kesh, "Your face….. Fuck, Kesh. Oh God! Your face!...You looked like I had accused you of being a bloody pervert!" Tears of laughter spilled from his eyes. Kesh laughed in embarrassment and lunged at Sherlock. They mock wrestled, hands entwined, rolling in the king sized bed, till both were panting. After a while, Sherlock looked up at Kesh said in a quiet voice, "Touch me, Kesh."

Taking in a deep breath, and holding it, Kesh leaned towards Sherlock. With the faintest tremor coursing through his hands, he ran his fingertips over Sherlock's cheekbones, down his jaw, over his chin. His thumb slowly traced the soft lips, the exquisite cupid's bow. His eyes flicked from Sherlock's lips to his eyes. Keeping his gaze locked with Sherlock's he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips.

"Kesh…." murmured Sherlock against his lips, eyes closed.

"I can't believe I am allowed this," said Kesh in a disbelieving tone, "I didn't dare dream of it."

Sherlock opened his eyes, gone soft and dreamy. He pulled at Kesh's t-shirt, "Take this off, Kesh. I want to feel your skin against mine."

Both took off their t-shirts, as Kesh leaned forward again. Bit bolder this time, he kissed Sherlock again, as Sherlock ran light fingertips up and down Kesh's back in gentle encouragement. Kesh kissed, leaned back, eyes moving over that beloved face with awe, kissed some more, close mouthed soft pecks… occasional small excursions of tongue to lick hesitantly. He kissed every inch of Sherlock's face, breath rasping, amazed at his own boldness. Sherlock let himself go passive, welcoming, accepting, allowing Kesh to get confident.

He leaned back again, and looked at Sherlock's chest in wonder. Light fingers touched his chest, nipples, belly. Bending down he paid homage with his lips, hesitant licks on nipples, nostrils flaring as he inhaled Sherlock's scent around his nipples, under his arms. He turned Sherlock around with a nudge and ran his fingers all over his back, kissing softly up the spine, and burying his face in the nape of his neck, breathing him in deeply.

Sherlock allowed the slow exploration patiently, letting quiet moans and little gasps escape, as he enjoyed the reverent touches.

When he finally turned Sherlock on his back again, he got another good look at Kesh's face. _Good, very aroused, but not hyperventilating. God, look at his eyes, like he is worshipping me with them. Okay, my turn…Take it easy…_

"My turn, Kesh," murmured Sherlock as he buried a hand in Kesh's hair and pulled him forward. Fitting his lips with Kesh's, he started slow. Nip….. peck…. lick.

He reversed their positions, cradling Kesh's head against the pillow, as he bent down. He was careful to angle his torso away, only letting their chests touch, as he slowly deepened the kiss. Licking each lip in turn, he ran his tongue between them, sucking on the lips as they parted to let him in. He took his time, exploring, guiding, tenderly coaxing Kesh to move his mouth in tandem.

Breath starting to get labored, Kesh responded with enthusiasm, as Sherlock moved a hand to his nipples. As he savoured Kesh's mouth, he held a nipple between thumb and forefinger and lightly rolled it.

"Sherlock…." rasped Kesh, as his hips moved up involuntarily.

Smiling indulgently, "Like that, do you?" said Sherlock, as he pinched harder, before moving to the other nipple.

"Sherlock, please….." voice husky with need, as Kesh writhed, legs restless, body arching, as Sherlock alternated between nipples, soft pulls with harder pinches. Hungrily, Sherlock looked on. _Lips swollen, gaze unfocussed, nipples red and puffed up. So sensitive, look at him, he is wrecked with just foreplay, God, Kesh…._

"We can't go to sleep with raging hard-ons _again_, Kesh," whispered Sherlock in Kesh's ear, as he licked and kissed the hollow of his neck, stroking his sides. "I won't touch you just yet. But I do want you to bring yourself off. Can you do that for me?"

Kesh's eyes looked desperate, body undulating under Sherlock, as Sherlock looked on. Faces close, Sherlock purred against Kesh's lips, "You can go to the bathroom and do it, while I furiously wank out here, or you can do it out here, with me holding you close. I promise I won't look. What would you like, Kesh?"

With a low groan, Kesh hid his face in both his hands, "Oh God, you must think I am such a fool….such a stupid fool…"

"None of that," said Sherlock gently uncovering Kesh's face. "_Look _at me. This is us, you and me. We are alone, there is no need to feel embarrassed. We don't have to follow some rule book, Kesh." Slowly turning Kesh to his side, and settled himself behind him, he continued, "Besides, you have no idea how fucking arousing this is for me."

He slipped one hand under Kesh's head and pulled him close, other hand splayed on Kesh's abdomen, his chest touching Kesh's back, hooking an ankle around Kesh's, careful to angle his own erection away. Gently nuzzling against Kesh's neck, he repeated , "I won't look…take yourself in hand, Kesh."

With a whimper, he felt Kesh slide his hand inside, and the loud gasp when at last he held his cock.

"I've got you, Kesh. Play with yourself, go on….fuck, I can feel how hard you are. You are desperate aren't you?" Face buried in Kesh's hair, lips whispering directly into his ears, he let his deep baritone fall further, "I want you to think how it will feel when it will be my hand stroking your hard cock. Firm, but not too much. I would play with your nipples, as I wanked you…..you'd like that, wouldn't you?

The room filled with the obscene wet sounds of rhythmic wanking, getting faster as he talked. Sherlock felt every flex of Kesh's hands, breath labored with gasps, a litany of pleading sounds, "Sherlock….Sherlock, please….Oh God, Sherlock….."

"That's right, let me hear you. I love to hear begging…..You would look down as my hand holding your dick became a blur, your glans appearing and disappearing in my fist, as I suckle and bite your neck," said Sherlock, as he bit roughly, open mouthed bites, around Kesh's neck and shoulder. "You would moan and beg, to have me bring you off. And I would be rub by dick on your naked ass…Oh, Kesh, I can't wait to fuck you, as I pump your cock with my hand….you don't know overwhelmed yet….till you have a big cock shoving in and out of you, as I play with you…" Sherlock's voice started going raspy, as caught up in his own fantasy, he moaned in Kesh's ear. He wanted so desperately to touch his own prick, wanted to fuck something…he needed friction _damn it_….

Keening, pleading moans were escaping Kesh, as his rhythm became more frantic. "Please, Sherlock…..God, please, Sherlock…I can't…Sherlock…."

"You will feel so tight, so hot around me. Tight, virginal ass just for me to enjoy…. _Jesus_, fuck, Kesh… _fuck_…Kesh, _tell me_ you're close…." He pleaded.

"Sherlock…I'm coming, Sherlock don't leave, please Sherlock, hold me….. Oh God …Sherlock…please, _please_….."

Sherlock tightened his grip around Kesh, as almost crying with pleasure he came in huge spurts, entire body trembling and contracting in Sherlock's arms. Hot drops of come painted Sherlock's hand, as he clenched Kesh's belly painfully and moaned loudly. He gathered all his reserves of will power to wait for Kesh to stop crying and gasping. As he felt Kesh go limp in his arms, he planted a soft kiss to his shoulder, and whispered, "Be back soon," as he almost ran to the bathroom.

In seconds he shoved down his pajamas, and took himself in hand, and just half a dozen strokes later, came in violent spurts all over the sink, splattering drops falling over the mirror, as he cried out hoarsely. Holding on to the wall, he panted, waves of extreme pleasure coursing through his body.

He came out a minute later, damp towel in hand and stood at the doorway, looking at Kesh. Kesh gave a shy hesitant smile as he thought about how he had let himself go. Sherlock returned it with a sheepish grin, as he recollected his vulgar words. He playfully threw the towel towards Kesh's face. He jumped on the bed, landing next to him, and pulled him close. Gathering Kesh in his arms he said huskily, "I don't know about you, but that was the _most_ erotic thing I have ever done."

Burying his face in Sherlock's shoulder, Kesh mumbled, "That was the _only_ erotic thing I have ever done."

Gently stroking his hair, Sherlock bent down to plant soft kisses on Kesh's forehead, as they let a satiated sleep overtake them.

To be continued…..


	7. Adhikaraha-Qualifications

John stood looking outside his living room window, absently tapping the sill with his finger, as he thought. Mary and Rosa were taking their afternoon nap. Rosa still kept them up most nights, and Mary had taken to resting whenever she slept, to keep sane. She was breast feeding, so John was unable to help much.

In another five days he was due to restart work at the clinic. Mary had decided to take three months off on maternity leave. Finances made it imperative that John at least start working. He was _not_ looking forward to going back into the tedium of minor illnesses, endless forms, small talk and soothing noises. But secretly he did not want to stay at home either. The novelty of having a baby at home wore off quickly, as it became apparent with mounting evidence that this could rapidly become monotonous too; with disturbed nights, a messy house, pervasive smell of baby, milk and diapers, constant feeding, cleaning, bathing, catching snippets of sleep.

_Where is he? If he were here, at least I could go with him for some cases, have a break from this, catch up to talk about the latest criminals and murderers to ail London. He would understand the need for a break. I love Mary and the baby, but God, I need a break from all this normality… _

Holding his phone in one hand, tapping the window sill with another, he thought some more.

_I don't want to call bloody Mycroft. Surely Lestrade or Mrs Hudson know where he is? Maybe try them first. Damn it, where is he? He should have told me, talked to me. How can he just leave and be gone for ten days, without telling me? _

Taking a deep breath, he dialed

"Yes. Oh Hi! Lestrade? Hi, its John."

"Oi John! How are you, mate?"

"Yes, fine. How about yourself?"

"Good, good…"

"Listen, I was wondering if you would like to go out for a pint sometime, you know?"

The police sirens in the background sounded loud, as Lestrade tried to shout out his reply, "Look, John. Can I call you back? We have just come out here for a double homicide and the shit has hit the fan at the Yard, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Fuck, we could use Sherlock right now! The Chief expects me to conjure up a miracle and solve the case and find the murderer with half an ounce of evidence. That's _Sherlock's _forte, not mine!" he broke off to hurriedly shout something at someone, before continuing, " Where is the bloody wanker anyway? Just got a fucking text saying he is leaving the country ten days ago. I could use him right now. Tried to call him an hour ago, but his mobile is still switched off. Do you know when he is coming back?"

"No, no I don't. Listen let's talk later, okay? You're obviously busy."

"Yeah, all right John. Say hello to Mary and give the baby a cuddle from me okay."

* * *

><p>Sherlock lay on the picnic mat, one bent arm supporting his head, one leg flexed, as he moved his knee to and fro lazily. He was watching Kesh.<p>

They had left home at seven in the morning, and Vedant had driven them for an hour to Chopta. From there, they had trekked for more than an hour, backpacks on, wooden sticks to help, through a little known path up this mountain. Kesh led the way, nimbly climbing and jumping over rocks and little streams of mountain fresh water, as the two climbed steadily. The air was cool, the surrounds thick with forestation, as the friends talked and laughed, and pulled and pushed to help each other make the journey.

Legs burning pleasantly, they reached the summit finally, their efforts well rewarded with the spectacular view of the towering, jagged snow covered Himalayan chains all around them.

"You see that peak, Sherlock?" panted Kesh excitedly. "That is the Kedarnath peak. There is a beautiful valley right at the base, the Kedarnath valley. I can't wait to take you there. It is possibly my favourite place in the world."

Kesh named the peaks, pointed at different trees and birds, as they set up for their packed breakfast of aloo parathas and buttermilk. The sun had risen two hours ago, and reflected pink off the gleaming snow. The area where Kesh had led them, was a clearing, with some trees, many big rocks, and a sudden sharp drop at the edge. Kesh informed him that they were about 3000 metres above sea level, and in a region called the Switzerland of India.

After their brunch, they set up their picnic mats, under the shade of a large Deodar tree. Pink rhododendron bushes were all around, the sweet smell of mountain dew gave a dreamy idyllic tone to the backdrop. They talked and laughed, and lay together, content in the other's company.

Now, Kesh had gone to stand near the edge of the cliff. He leaned against a massive rock and looked out, long curls gently fluttering, wistful smile dimpling his cheeks.

Sherlock watched his profile for a while, thinking. For the past 3 days, they had been going daily to the school building, and spending many an hour either working or just talking or swimming and coming back pleasantly exhausted. Kesh suggested they take a break, as he was really keen to show Sherlock this trek.

For the past three nights, they had slept together. In each other's arms, after bringing themselves off. Despite his earlier bravado, Kesh was slow to get confident in bed, following Sherlock's lead with a child like trust that filled Sherlock with a tender protectiveness.

_Its time to push the envelope a bit. Look at him, beautiful man. Mine. Oh Kesh….._

"Kesh," Sherlock called out,"Is anyone likely to come here?" he asked

"No. I have been coming here for years, and have never seen anyone, it's too out of the way," replied Kesh as he turned to look at Sherlock, smiling. Sherlock watched him silently, raking his eyes over Kesh's body with deliberate intent, and pushed his tongue out to lick his lips seductively. Kesh's eyes widened in response.

"Come here," Sherlock rumbled, allowing a faint tone of command to creep into his voice. He had observed the subtle shudder that always passed through Kesh's expressive face, when he used that voice.

Kesh walked towards him, breath quickened, body leaning forward as if carried by an unseen momentum. "Kiss me, Kesh," murmured Sherlock.

He crouched next to Sherlock, moving to meet Sherlock's upturned face. Lips moved against each other, as they kissed languidly, Sherlock's hands roaming over Kesh's back, even as Kesh tangled his fingers in Sherlock's curls and sighed. Keeping his arms around Kesh, Sherlock sat sat together , chests rubbing , arms roaming over each other. Small gasps escaped Kesh's lips, as Sherlock tongue danced and flirted with his. The air between them suddenly felt charged. _Yes, please, Sherlock…._

"Lie down," murmured Sherlock against his mouth, "I want to feast on you." With an impatient movement, he removed his shirt, and then tugging Kesh's shirt out of his cargo pants, he threw that away as well.

He pushed Kesh down gently over the mat, and loomed over him, eyes hooded with desire, as he raked his gaze over Kesh's face. Kesh looked back, wet lips parted, eyes flashing in anticipation.

Sherlock ran a hand through Kesh's hair, and pulled roughly to bare Kesh's neck, as he peppered the side of his neck and his shoulders with heated open mouthed kisses and soft bites. Kesh moaned, "Sherlock, Oh God, yes…"

"You like it when I kiss you there, don't you?" whispered Sherlock, as he leaned back to breathe against Kesh's mouth. At his shy nod, he continued, "What else do you like, Kesh?" Kesh gasped loudly, as Sherlock dipped back to bite the soft flesh over the curve of his neck, his body arching against Sherlock.

A slow seductive smile escaped Sherlock's lips, as he hummed, "Like it a bit rough as well, I see. What else, Kesh. Tell me." Another bite, another lick. Seeing the hesitant, embarrassed look pass on Kesh's face again, he rubbed their noses together slowly as he whispered, "When two people are intimate Kesh, it is okay to share… to tell each other…. your deepest fantasies, your filthiest kinks, what turns you on, no matter how taboo or silly it might seem."

Kesh gave a small smile, as he responded to Sherlock's questioning look, and said softly, " I like it….. when you pinch my nipples." Sherlock rewarded him with a gentle smile, and said, "What else, Kesh?" as he slid his hand lower and flicked one nipple, and then pinched it gently and rolled it between his fingers. A breathy moan escaped Kesh's lips, as his hips bucked up at Sherlock's touch. "So responsive, my Kesh," Sherlock said with soft approval.

"I like it….. when you talk to me," Kesh gasped.

"Talk to you…. When I talk dirty to you?" Tightening his hold on Kesh's hair, Sherlock tilted his head up and swept down with a low groan to kiss him again, tongue invading, moving, stroking, conquering. "Fuck Kesh, I could talk for hours, to tell you every filthy thing I am going to do to you. And every perverted thing I am going to teach you, so that I can enjoy you."

Kesh felt his pulse pound in his ears, as Sherlock's words resounded within him. Sherlock licked his way down to reach Kesh's nipples. Holding one nipple between his teeth, he nibbled and then pulled , then soothed it down with a lick, as he played and flicked the other one. Kesh was begged brokenly, "Sherlock, Sherlock, please….".

_I thought I would get used to this. How can I, when he touches me like this? When I can feel every breath he takes against me, when his voice is whispering such things in my ear, his fingers play with me like he plays his violin. Look at him….so beautiful. His eyes look like he wants to devour me. How did I get so lucky?... Should I ask for more today?... How do I phrase it?... He might laugh at me, at my eagerness. No, he won't. _Sherlock had moved to the other nipple now. He ached, Oh God, he wanted, he ached so much.

Sliding up again, Sherlock kissed the side of his mouth, as he said huskily, "You know what I like, Kesh? I like the sounds you make, I love the pleading, I could listen to your moans forever." He paused his ministrations for a while, to draw back and look at his friend. He looked intently and then in a quiet voice, he murmured, "Do you trust me, Kesh?"

A pause as Kesh tried to climb out of his haze. "With every fibre in my being," came the simple response, as Kesh met his eyes.

"I am going to see you today. I am going to touch you. And you are going to come in my hands," he murmured huskily, flushed face looking down.

Sherlock sat up, to tug at the waistband of Kesh's trousers, and carefully keeping his eyes on Kesh' face, he stripped him. He kept looking at Kesh, who had started to tremble. Cupping his face, Sherlock peppered his face with soft, gentle kisses, and sighed, "Kesh, my beautiful, shy Kesh."

He waited for the trembling to die down a bit, as he slowly let go and propped himself on one elbow. He allowed his gaze to travel down for the first look at Kesh's hard length, brown and swollen, nestled in black curls . "So beautiful," he whispered, petting Kesh's abdomen gently, as both looked down. "That's _more than_ generous, Kesh," he said, as he planted more reassuring kisses on Kesh's face and chest. "When we come here next, I rather think I would like to ride it. I think it would go really deep. Would you like that? To be buried deep inside me, as I move, Kesh?"

A trickle of precum dripped down from the wide slit as his cock twitched at Sherlock's words. Kesh buried his face in Sherlock's chest with a mortified gasp. Sherlock soothed his hair with gentle fingers, "Hey, I told you, this is just you and me. It's _us_, Kesh. No need to hide….Can I touch you?" Feeling Kesh's nod on his chest, he scooped his face up and held his chin, as he asked, "Watch with me?"

They looked down together, as Sherlock let his hands slide down and immerse in the thick nest of curls, stroking in circles. "I bet you smell delicious down there, Kesh. Next time, I think I think I will bury my face down there and _fill_ my lungs with you." He touched the length with his fingers slowly sliding them up and down his cock. And then a broad palm curled around Kesh's leaking, thick shaft and he arched, gasping and trembling. "Shhh… It's okay. I've got you," hummed Sherlock as he stroked. "Sherlock…please…._Oh God_," keening whimpers escaped from Kesh's mouth, as Sherlock bent down his head, and kissed him. He let his tongue invade deep into the wet panting mouth.

Kesh had lost all coordination, mouth open and messy and panting loudly. His hips bucked as Sherlock spread the moistness and slicked his cock and allowed Kesh to fuck the tunnel of his fist. "Feels good, doesn't it?" he whispered in his ears, and then playfully nipped the shell of his ear, as he breathed, "Can you imagine my mouth around it? It will be so hot, so wet. I would suck you, while you could hold my hair and pull." His strokes got a bit faster, as he continued, "I could deep throat you, Kesh. Do you know what that means? I would take you in right up to the base of your cock and swallow around it. It feels _divine_. Maybe I can teach you to do that. Would you like to have my cock in your mouth?" Kesh writhed desperately, as Sherlock eased off his grip.

"I need to touch myself, Kesh," groaned Sherlock as he let go, and pulled down his trousers and pants. He loomed for a bit next to Kesh, as he struggled to get his ankles free in that position. Kesh's eyes were huge, pupils enlarged, as he drank in the sight of Sherlock's thick, long cock, curving gracefully as it stood turgid and stretched in line with his abdomen. The beautiful, dusky pink creating a mouthwatering contrast with the thick patch of curly dark hair around its base and the pale abdomen. Veins stretched the thin skin and shone with a blue hue through the slickness.

"Play with yourself a bit, Kesh, I need to get the edge off," said Sherlock hoarsely, as the silent awe in Kesh's eyes made his cock throb with need. He settled back on his knees between Kesh's legs, as at his encouraging nod, Kesh too took himself in hand, and started stroking. Both men gasped, looking at the other's cocks, as they pulled on their own. A loud moan escaped Sherlock, as his hips bucked up, the sight of Kesh beating his flesh, filling him with an helpless want. "Kesh, bend your knees and spread them a bit, let me see all of you. And go slow with the wanking, I don't want you to come yet."

Letting go of his cock, Kesh slowly bent both his knees, as he planted his restless hands next to his body. His bollocks where tight and pulled up, leaving Sherlock with a clear view of his cleft. Letting go of his own aching cock Sherlock parted Kesh's cheeks, thumbs digging into the flesh, as he said "Let me see you…._Fuck_, Kesh…. I can see your entrance. Looks so tight and closed." Biting his lower lip with this teeth, his hand moved back to his cock, moving fast as he informed Kesh huskily, "Someday soon,that hole will be slick and open and aching for _me_. For me to _fuck_ into it, _use_ it," as he kneading one cheek.

Kesh's hands were clasped in tight fists, as he was now panting openly, chest moving fast, wild desperate eyes darting between Sherlock's face and cock, hips arching helplessly in the air, wanting to hold, be held. His legs spread wider of their own accord in mute invitation. A deep guttural sound of pleasure escaped Sherlock as he saw this. He let go of Kesh's ass as he slid his hand to Kesh's mouth. He pinched his lower lip gently and said, "Open." Kesh's jaw fell open as Sherlock pushed two fingers in, watching with barely concealed animalistic desire, "But first maybe I will slide my cock in your mouth. Fuck your pretty mouth. _God damn it_, Kesh," he growled as with superhuman effort, he took his hand off his hardness. He bent down to kiss Kesh messily, as uncoordinated as his friend, drowning in a sea of lust and desire.

He panted into Kesh's mouth, "Not like this though, not now, _our first time together_, my Kesh," so saying he leant back and turned Kesh to his side and settled behind him, "Come here, want to hold you close." One arm was securely cradling Kesh's head while the other moved down to hold his aching member. Kesh cried out aloud this time, unable to hold in his desperation. He was pleading, his breaths like a prayer to a God, "Please, Sherlock….I can't Sherlock, please don't stop….I beg you, please..." Sherlock nuzzled his neck as he parted Kesh's cheeks and positioned his hardness in the naked crack made slick by his precum and frantically rutted, sliding his cock up and down in rhythm with his hands on Kesh.

The sounds of gasps, moans, incoherent begging and shushing reverberated as both men raced to their climax. "Sherlock, it feels so good….so _good_, Oh my God, please Sherlock" alternated with "Kesh, my lovely Kesh, that's it Kesh, let go. Come for me."

Sherlock felt Kesh's body stiffen, as his cock swelled some more, and with a loud cry, he began pulsing into Sherlock's hands, sobbing incoherently entire body shaking, as his come painted his belly and Sherlock's hands. Sherlock angled himself closer as he rutted roughly, one come-stained hand digging into Kesh's hips, grunting loudly, Kesh's sounds of completion spurring his own. His whole body clenched, as thick, white strings of come spattered all over Kesh's arse, and he cried out triumphantly, "Kesh, fuck, yes, God, _Kesh….."_

For a moment both lay there panting, as Sherlock leaned his sweaty forehead against Kesh's back and looked down. He lazily dipped his hand in the white streaks and spread his come over Kesh's arse with his fingers and dipped some in his cleft, and laughed in pure delight. He tightened his arms around Kesh and kissed and nuzzled his neck, his shoulder, the side of his cheek, his hair as he cuddled him.

After a while, Sherlock turned him around gently, searching Kesh's eyes and face for any distress. Tear stained eyes looked at him gratefully, as Kesh gave a shy smile, that widened into a sheepish grin showing his deep dimples, even as he burrowed his face into Sherlock's chest, and resisted any efforts to lift it. Sherlock smiled as he petted his hair and said, "My sweet, shy Kesh. That was _good_, wasn't it? So good….. you did so well."

He cleaned them both with a kitchen towel and pulled his coat to cover them both and he kissed the back of his head as he kept murmuring encouragements and endearments. Kesh sagged into his arms after a while, and Sherlock settled back. Sated and happy, they slept.

* * *

><p>"Oh, Hello, John! How are you? How are the missus and the baby?" Mycroft's smooth voice asked on the phone.<p>

"Yeah, fine Mycroft. We are all fine," John replies.

"Have you named her yet?"

"Yeah, Rosa. We are calling her Rosa."

"That's nice, that's nice, isn't it? Now, what can I do for you?" asked Mycroft.

"Yeah, Mycroft, listen, just wondering if you know where Sherlock is? He sent a text ten days ago, saying he was going overseas. When is he coming back?" words coming out in a rush. God, he hated talking to that pompous asshole.

"Oh! I thought you knew. Sherlock is in India."

"_India_! Why? Is it a case? How come he didn't say anything. We were together just a day before he left!"

"Well I can't speak for him. But yes, he is in India. No, not a case, visiting a _friend_."

"_Friend_!" gasped John, unable to reign in his surprise.

"Yes, a friend."

"I didn't know he had any friends in India!"

"It is hard to know everything about Sherlock , isn't it?" said Mycroft. "And I don't know when he will be back. He told me, he wanted to spend some time alone with _Kesh_, just a friendly social visit" Mycroft's voice purred, like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, stressing on the word _Kesh._

"Sherlock doesn't do _social _visits," John snorted in reply.

"Well, that's obviously not true, is it?"

"Right, well. Thanks for that."

"No problems at all, John. Would you like to pass on a message to him?"

"No, that's all right. Just wondering, that's all. Thanks for that." said John as he hung up.

Mycroft ended the call with a deep satisfaction. Yes, yes. _Petty_ to feel this smug, but God damn, _yes_!

For the umpteenth time, he removed the carefully kept photographs from the file on his desk. His operative in India had been instructed to keep an eye on Sherlock and send an occasional report. He had also been strictly told not to intrude or interfere. His first report arrived yesterday, and Mycroft was filled with satisfaction.

The first photograph showed Sherlock, wearing only folded trousers, standing among a group of youngsters, an unfinished structure in the background. He was in the midst of what looked like a guffaw, head thrown back in abandon, mouth open and eyes shining with delight. Kesh stood close by, also grinning, eyes fixed on Sherlock, an amused tender look on his face, which Mycroft hoped he was interpreting correctly. After all, they _were_ standing close, hands just inches from each other.

The second photograph showed Sherlock applying paint to a wall, on a sunny afternoon, hair mussed, an obvious drop of sweat rolling down his temple, brow furrowed in concentration.

The third photograph showed him swimming, in what appeared to be a river, caught mid stroke, water splashes evident, looking happy. Kesh sat on the banks, cross legged and appeared to be yelling out something to Sherlock.

Mycroft looked at the photographs again and again till his vision blurred, running loving fingers over that treasured face and sighed with contentment.

* * *

><p>The sun was starting to get lower in the horizon, when Sherlock woke up, eyes still dreamy and looking at the swaying tree branches above. He gave a lazy full body stretch and then turned his head, looking for Kesh.<p>

Kesh sat at the edge of the clearing, back resting against a huge rock, his profile looking serene and peaceful, gazing into the distance at the snow clad peaks. Sherlock smiled and lifted himself in a lithe movement, pulling his trousers and shirt on, buttoning them, as he walked towards Kesh. At the crunch of his footsteps, Kesh turned with a welcoming smile and said, "You slept well…. We need to leave in a bit, Sherlock. We need to reach Chopta before it gets dark."

Sherlock stood in front of him, looking down at his face tenderly murmured, "Soon," then dropped neatly between his legs and sat down, leaning his back against Kesh's chest.

They sat quietly looking into the distance without saying a word, Kesh's hands in his hair, as he turned his head from time to time, to plant soft kisses on Kesh's chest.

After a while, Kesh said, "I used to come here when I was 18. Almost every other day. Sometimes I used to camp overnight. To think….To meditate….To calm myself…. To figure things out."

Sherlock pulled on one arm, and held Kesh's hand close to his lips, kissing gently. "What happened?"

Kesh leaned his head against Sherlock's hair, as he answered, "You know my parents died when I was 11. Well, there was a lot of money involved, and there was a struggle to get my custody. Mainly between my father's two brothers and my mother's brother. The family ended up sending me to a boarding school in Nainital. I would come to my uncle's house for school holidays, but the rest of the time, they managed the money and the business."

"They were good people, don't get me wrong, just obsessed with money and prestige. It was when I was 17, had finished school and about to join college, that the whole nastiness erupted. Constant fights, legal challenges, everyone wanting a piece of the pie. I was to be of age soon, and they had to figure out a solution, find some loophole, to get what they wanted."

Sherlock moved to angle himself, so that he could lean on a strong muscled thigh, and tuck his extended legs under another bent knee. He looked at Kesh intently, but said nothing.

"I was….. not happy. I could not understand how all my relatives were fighting over money, factories, assets. It seemed so _inconsequential_, as if it had any meaning in life. I could not understand, so I was unhappy. On my eighteenth birthday, I called everyone together. I gave all of them what they wanted, as much money, property they wanted. And then asked everyone to leave. That's when I started coming here. _To think_."

"You just gave it away? Not many people would have done that, it must have been a lot of money," said Sherlock, entwining Kesh's fingers with his own, in a show of silent support.

"What is the price of peace of mind, Sherlock? Tell me," said Kesh gently, as he bent his head to place a soft kiss on Sherlock's forehead. "You had none, just a few days ago, what would you have given to have it back?"

"Anything…._everything_."

"Exactly. Money, things, people all come and go. But calmness and peace of mind, they are the most important thing in life. Didn't Kipling say _If you can keep your head, while all about you are losing theirs…."_

Sherlock was silent as he looked at the mountains, gaze unfocussed, brow furrowed.

"But even after they left, I was not happy. I felt confused," continued Kesh. "I looked around, at people and couldn't make sense of anything. Poor people wanted money, rich people wanted more. No one was happy. Where material things were aplenty, all manner of interpersonal relationships caused all manner of problems. What to talk of sickness, death, calamity?"

"I did not want to live like that. I was young, life in front of me. It felt important to me, that I understand."

"What happened next?"Sherlock asked, turning to face him again, looking intently.

"I read everything I could of what Masters had to say. Of ancient India, Buddhism, other faiths. I looked around, with the specific purpose of understanding human behavior. I amassed a lot of book knowledge, but it still felt incomplete, sublime though it was."

"And then, I started thinking about myself, contemplating on myself. _Meditating._ I would spend hours alone. Come here, and stay for a few nights at a time, with only nature for company. My thinking became subtler as I continued, my understanding deeper, my happiness more centered. It was the most intense year of my life."

Sherlock's grip on Kesh's hand tightened, as he pulled their entwined fingers closer and kissed tenderly, and then held them against his cheek, as he listened.

"I had thought that was the hard part. But it wasn't. I re-entered so to speak, the world, civilization."

"Why is that harder?"

"Because to understand something intellectually, is easy. Much harder, is _application_, in day to day life, in everyday situations. When you are alone and talking hypothetically, anyone can be the wisest man. But to translate that into right action, requires vigilance, a constant alertness, a willingness to commit to the knowledge, an abiding deep love for the practice of it. To fall daily, recognize the mistake, pick yourself up and try harder. "

"You see, Sherlock, the world is a very attractive place, with promises of pleasure and happiness at every turn. It is the easiest thing to forget your goal, to think you have found something better. That is why it is hard."

He fell silent for a while, as Sherlock continued to caress his hands absently, as he thought.

Coming to a decision, Sherlock turned his head and regarded Kesh solemnly as he said, "Kesh, will you teach me how to meditate?"

Kesh silently looked at Sherlock, and then cupped his face, tilting it up with warm adoring hands. He looked at each part of his face lovingly, and bent down to place soft gentle kisses on his forehead, then rested his lips against Sherlock's hair and breathed him deeply. He was silent for a long time. Sherlock stayed with his head bent forward, waiting. Kesh's silences sometimes spoke to him more than his words.

Eventually, he drew back, cupping Sherlock's face. He searched Sherlock's face for any hesitation, any nonchalance. A deeply interested, calm face looked back unwaveringly.

"It would be my privilege, Sherlock,"he finally responded.

He drew back further letting go of Sherlock and standing up, watched the distant peaks for a while. . Sherlock settled back on the rock, and patiently crossed his legs as he waited. Kesh faced him finally and with a smile, came and sat facing Sherlock.

"Actually, you have many of the qualifications needed, to achieve success in this practice. You have a naturally _contemplative_ mind, able to look inwards rather than outwards. You have a keen, incisive and _subtle intellect_, able to pierce through layers of superfluous irrelevant things to get to what is important. You have a heightened self _awareness_. You have the capacity for intense _focus_ and concentration. You have the _stubbornness_ to stick to the path, because you will want to win over any obstacles."

"So yes, I will. Understand this, though, no one can teach anyone anything worth knowing, Sherlock. Yes, I can tell you about my experiences."

"Let me tell you my understanding of meditation. You can think about it, reflect on it. And when you are ready, we can take it from there.

"First, let me clear some misconceptions. Meditation is _not_ the art of twisting the body, it is the practice of straightening the mind. It is _not_ something that is to be scheduled for an hour in an otherwise busy life. It is a 24/7 preoccupation. It is _not_ sitting in a pose, and concentrating on abstract things, it is a way of life. It is _not_ a practice of psychology, where you understand yourself, and try to validate the emotions you are feeling. It is _not_ a means to an end, it is in its highest stages it is _the _goal in itself."

Kesh smiled as he watched Sherlock's eyes darting, as if chasing the words with his eyes.

He said gently, "Sherlock, the sun is about to set. We should start walking now. Vedant will be waiting."

Sherlock rose absently, slowly coming back to the present. With a still serious look on his face, he walked up to Kesh. He looked at his face for a long while, opening his mouth twice to say something, then closed it again. His face softened, as he leaned forward to kiss Kesh, all soft lips and gentle sighs, arms around his friend, "Thank you for today, Kesh. It has been one of the most beautiful days of my life," he murmured.

Kesh returned the embrace and said softly, "Mine too, Sherlock, mine too."

To be continued…


	8. Maa Phaleshu- Never the fruit

"Sherlock uncle, Sherlock uncle….please wake up," a panicked, child's voice cried out as small hands pulled at Sherlock's much bigger ones.

The words penetrated Sherlock's consciousness as he opened his eyes to see Mahesh's tear stained face, peering down at him. He snapped into full alertness, "What is it, Mahesh?"

The child was sobbing, tears flowing down his cheeks, breath hitching, distressed eyes looking at Sherlock. Leaping off the bed, pulling his trousers and t-shirt on, Sherlock said in a firm voice, a gentle hand on the child's head, "What is it, Mahesh?"

"They are downstairs…. So many of them…..they have come to take Meera didi away…Kesh bhaiyya is talking to them, but they have big sticks, and there are so many of them…..."

"Stay here,Mahesh. Don't worry. I will go," said Sherlock as he opened the door. " Stay here," he repeated as he closed the door softly and flew down.

A clamour of loud voices emanated from the lawn. Darting his eyes around the living room, and finding it empty with no signs of disturbance, he entered the kitchen swiftly, looked around and seized a knife. He slid it in his left trouser pocket curled in his fist as he slowly walked outside.

In less than the amount of time he took to take three steps, Sherlock's eyes moved to take all possible details of the scene before him.

Eleven men, _two old, four middle aged, five young; four with large wooden rods; one shouting to old man's left, forty five, poor, right handed, rod six inch diameter, bamboo, clenched grip, furious, scar over one eye, womanizer; old man in center, crying, palms joined, limp right leg, no weapons, also poor; to his left…._

Standing opposite them were, _Uddhav, angry, pulse throbbing right temple, clenched fists, yelling back, stance aggressive; Partha, red faced, right hand holding axe, brass alloy, well sharpened, forearm muscles flexing menacingly; Shankar, seven inch bamboo rod, left handed, looking belligerent; Vedant, pudgy body a mass of hostility, fury on his usually benign countenance._

In the midst, standing next to Uddhav, his profile becoming visible as Sherlock neared, was Kesh_. Grim face, devoid of anger or antagonism, listening, normal breath rate, pupils normal, stance open._

The atmosphere was tense_. _

He came and stood by Kesh, calmly looking at the enraged group, hands clasped behind his back in studied nonchalance, rocking slightly on his heels.

"Joining me?" Kesh asked, to which Sherlock replied, "Always," with a tight smile.

The man with the rod said," Don't think we don't know your tricks. You took Meera away two months ago. Poor Madhav," he said gesturing to the agitated old man in the center, "was unable to say anything, because you rich people know how to scare us poor people away."

Uddhav retorted through clenched teeth in barely suppressed rage, "No one took Meera away. She came with Hrishikesh out of her own will. In fact, it was Madhav who was getting her married against her wishes."

Another man glowered, raising a pointed meaty finger and wagging it at Kesh, "What do you mean, against her will? Madhav is her father, he has full right to decide her future, and who she marries. What do her _wishes_ have to do with anything. I am telling you, Uddhav, you don't know all the facts."

A third man, came out from behind Madhav and shouted, "The whole town knows, that Meera was taken by Hrishikesh on her wedding day. We know what happened. It is common knowledge that she is being kept here against her wishes. Who knows what has been going on in this house?" he said with a disgusted voice.

Sherlock stood and listened, eyes darting everywhere, noticing everything, body ready to spring at a moment's notice, but stayed silent. The time to intervene was not now, not without a signal from Kesh.

From the corner of his eyes, he caught a movement, and angled himself to better observe. A young man, looking furious was dragging a crying and struggling Meera out, saying, "You whore! We have found you now, and we are taking you back. How dare you defy your father and stay over here with this man."

Sherlock neatly sidestepped and intervened, pushing out one hand to grab Meera's wrist, and jerked her behind him, while with the other he grabbed the man's arm and extended the wrist painfully. The man let out a howl and arched his body in pain. Sherlock heaved the man with ferocity where he fell into the group. Meera cowered behind Sherlock, allowing him to hold her trembling wrist, while she clutched desperately at his shirt from behind.

The man got up ready to launch on Sherlock, when the man with the scar stopped him and looking even more outraged chimed in, "Yes, who knows what has been going on in this house? This Hrishikesh found a young beautiful girl and brought her here. Who knows what he has been doing to her? And now we see this foreigner," he said glaring at Sherlock, "He may be raping her every night for all we know," he waved his bamboo rod around looking at everyone for support, before turning back to Kesh and pointing an accusing finger. "This Hrishikesh and this foreigner might be molesting her every night, for all we know. Maybe taking turns in raping her."

A loud cry rang out, as an outraged Partha ran forward, holding his axe to the man's throat, and said, "Take that back. Take that back, _right now_. You do _not _talk about Hrishikesh bhaiyya and Sherlock Sir like that."

"_Enough_! Partha, step down," came the stern command from Kesh.

Partha let go of the man, and stepped back, limbs trembling with suppressed anger, but eyes down and obedient.

Meera moved from behind Sherlock, to hide behind Kesh.

"Madhav, why don't you ask your daughter yourself, if she has been treated with anything but respect in this house?" said Kesh, voice calm, reassuring.

Meera peered from behind Kesh's shoulder and glowering at her father and all the men, chest heaving, she said, "Why should I have to tell anyone anything? Did anyone come and help me, besides Hrishikesh bhaiyya and Uddhav, when you were marrying me against my wishes?" She sneered with vehemence, as she waved her arms emphatically and continued, "You call yourself a father, but were willing to give me away to that fifty year old man, with two previous wives…"

"Madhav, you have heard what Meera has said. What do you have to say?" asked Uddhav.

Folding his palms in front of his chest, the distraught old man, cried as he spoke, "Hrishikesh, I know that you are a good man. I know that you think I wronged Meera. But I have five daughters. All the young men ask for so much dowry, where will a poor man like me find so much money? And she is a marriageable age, everyone will question if she does not get married soon."

"And now she came and stayed here for two months. With you. _Alone_. No other woman in the house! And now this foreigner is also staying here. People are talking about it. A young girl with two young men. No one is ready to marry her, everyone is questioning her virtue."

Sherlock glanced quickly at Kesh, who was looking at Madhav with compassion.

"Madhav, Meera is a wonderful lady. If and when she wants to marry, she should not have a problem. But, it is up to her."

"But her reputation is ruined! Who will marry her?" Madhav asked with a choked sob.

Uddhav stepped forward, anger calmed a bit and said, "Madhav, anyone would be lucky to marry her, why are you worrying?" he reasoned.

Looking up with pathetic eyes, Madhav asked "Who will marry her after she has stayed with two men? Would you marry her?"

Uddhav said without rancor, "In a heartbeat, if she would have me."

Meera's loud gasp rang out as everyone looked at Uddhav in disbelief. A hushed silence fell, with everyone looking at each other. Everyone except Kesh and Sherlock, the two tall men standing side by side like a single immovable wall, while the tides of emotions swirled and raged around them, unperturbed, watchful and in control.

The silence continued, as the crowd seemed to be re-evaluating its options, Madhav continued to look at Uddhav with an incredulous face, while Meera stared unblinkingly at him.

Finally Kesh stepped forward, and said to Madhav in a firm, uncompromising tone, hand on his shoulder, "Madhav, you have come into my home and insulted a lady under my protection. She is 23 years old, and even if she is your daughter, she has a right to decide her future. You have come into my home and insulted an esteemed guest. Some day you will realize the error you have made. For now, I suggest you leave with your goons, all of whom are less than exemplary examples of humanity, as we know from their own personal domestic situations."

"If and when Meera gets married, I will make sure you are informed. Whether you decide to come and bless her, is up to you. If you or your goons chose to escalate the situation or bring any harm to anyone, I will bring the wrath of the police and God on you. And on your goons. Now leave."

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, the crowd was gone, and everyone had settled down with a cup of refreshing tea. An introspective silence reigned in the living room.<p>

Kesh sat, holding a subdued Mahesh in his lap and cradled to his chest, stroking his hair gently. Haridas, rattled with the events, kept shooting concerned glances at Kesh and Sherlock. Partha and Shankar had been sent away. Uddhav sat looking down, uncomfortable at his outburst, looked at Kesh from time to time, waiting for his friend's reaction. Meera sat legs folded under her on the floor near the kitchen door, eyes lowered, sneeking glances at Kesh, waiting for him to say something.

Sherlock stood by the window, leaning against the wall with a faint smile on his face, and _observed_.

Tea things cleared away, Kesh finally said, "Haridas, take Mahesh with you."

Mahesh giving one last squeeze, left Kesh's lap dutifully.

"Meera, come here," he instructed.

Meera stood up, and walked slowly towards Kesh. Sliding down to her knees, she gracefully knelt in front of Kesh, and looked up at his face confidently.

Kesh spoke. "Please do not feel, that you need to make any decision to do anything. You know you are a valued part of this family, and will continue to be so. Your life is your own, and I will fight with anyone who chooses to take that right away from you. And don't worry about your safety from those thugs. You are safe here. If you feel unsafe, I will buy you a house in whichever city you chose, and you can make your life there."

Meera folded her palms, and with a respectful tone said, "Bhaiyya, I know that… But Uddhav made a proposition, and I would like your opinion on it. Please bhaiyya, tell me what you think."

Kesh smiled and said, "That is up to you to decide. But you asked for my opinion." He glanced at the mute Uddhav and said softly, "In my opinion, Uddhav is a very good man, and would be well suited to you."

She looked at him silently, and then bowed her head respectfully before standing up.

To everyone's surprise she approached Sherlock next. Sherlock looked at her startled, confused.

Standing in front of him, she brought her palms together and looked at him. Tears pooled in her eyes, as she said with simple dignity, voice quavering with emotion, "Sherlock sir, you are a very dear friend to Kesh bhaiyya. More than that, you are an honoured guest in this house…." She bowed her head low, as tears spilled. Looking up at Sherlock again, she continued in a subdued voice, "Today, because of me, you had to hear such uncouth words directed against you. Please forgive me. And please forgive my father and all those men."

Sherlock stared at her, this young, graceful woman… Apropos of apparently nothing, he thought of Irene Adler for a split second. Another beautiful woman, naked and unabashed, sensual and predatory…._How, how was I so blind…. What else did I not see? Stupid, stupid_….

His eyes softened as he gravely inclined his head in acknowledgement and murmured softly, "It was not your fault. You are not responsible for other's behaviours."

"With all due respect, Sherlock sir, it is always a collective responsibility," she said cryptically, "Please forgive me."

Voice hoarse with a sudden influx of emotion, Sherlock pronounced in his deep baritone, "If it means so much to you, I accept your regret."

Wiping her eyes, looking for a second, like the almost-child she was, Meera stood silently, head bowed. And then she next walked slowly towards Uddhav.

Uddhav stared at her mutely, looking nervous.

She looked at him and said in a defiant voice, "I am uneducated and a simple village girl. I am not versed in the sophisticated ways of your life. My only skills are domestic. I am willful and stubborn and will never blindly follow your orders." She tilted her chin up, and continued in a fiery voice, "But I am also loving, and fiercely loyal. I know how to save money and run a house with little means. And I can learn to use knives and forks and any other skills you think I need to have. And once I commit to you, I will never leave your side."

She paused and continued in a softer tone, "Bhaiyya thinks we should get married. For me, any words from Kesh bhaiyya are an instruction from God himself. I know you feel the same respect for his words. Did you mean it, when you said you would marry me?"

Uddhav gulped, and looking gobsmacked, only managed to nod his head vigorously. An amused snort escaped Sherlock as he looked at Uddhav's flushed face. Kesh looked at them gravely but with twinkling eyes, and said, "Uddhav, perhaps you two should have this discussion in private?"

The two friends burst into loud chuckles, as soon as Uddhav and Meera were out of earshot. They made their way upstairs.

* * *

><p>The sun was setting in the horizon, dusk falling, as Sherlock and Kesh sat on the broad marble tops of the balustrades lining the balcony, legs dangling down. Sherlock was looking at the faraway streaks of crimson clouds lining the horizon as he thought about the day's events. Kesh sat silent, stealing occasional glances at Sherlock's face.<p>

They had just had some tea, dinner was a while away, and both were relaxing after the day's events. Tranquility reigned, as a gentle breeze swayed the surrounding vegetation, and the birds were completing their final forays for the day.

"Do you not feel anger or disappointment?"asked Sherlock.

Responding to Kesh's silence, Sherlock turned to face his friend. "You saved Meera from a miserable future, and have now secured her life for her. But instead of being lauded for this, her father and so many of their people came with sticks to beat you. How is that a fair outcome?" he asked.

Kesh thought for a moment and said, "Sherlock a result of any action is just that, _a _result. Fair or unfair, favorable or unfavorable, desired or hated, is just the _labels_ we apply to it, a value judgement that we pass."

At Sherlock's frown, he elaborated further, "Every action that you do, is under your control. You have a choice to do the action, to not do the action or to do the opposite action. But once it is done, it is out of your control. There is no choice in the result. There are just too many variables that influence the result, your action being just one of them."

"Sanity lies in doing what needs to be done, at any given moment, in any situation, without projecting a desired outcome to it."

Sherlock turned fully and shifted his legs to straddle the balustrade top rail, and leaned back on the high divider, as he listened with narrowed eyes.

"Let us talk about the problem of hankering after a desired result while performing an action. _First_, when anything is done with a desired fruit in mind, your focus is diverted to that result. _Second_, because your focus is diverted you are never going to be able to do your best. _Third_, you are constantly living in the future, because the result is in the future only. _Fourth_, if the result turns out not to be what you want, you are setting yourself up for grief. _Fifth_, you lose sight of the fact that the fruit of a result is just that, a fruit, so called because it is _perishable_. "

"Take for example a young student studying for an exam. He wants good grades. He is worried about his grades. He is living in fear of what will happen if he does not get good grades. He is unable to focus on what he should be doing right now, which is studying."

Sherlock's frown deepened as he thought this through and then said, "But if you don't think about or work towards a desired result, what is the point of doing the action at all?"

Kesh leant towards Sherlock eagerly, as he spoke, "Because it is what a situation demands. You have been put in a position, where Totality demands an appropriate action from you. For example, I was put in a position where Meera needed my help. It was the right thing to do, at that time. I did it. End of story."

"This is the only sane way to live life. People go around their whole life, living either in their _past _with their memories, resentments, regrets or live in the _future_ with their expectations, worries, fears. To live in the _present_, do what needs to be done, and move to the next moment. This is _living._ The moment you start living like this, you will find a few things happen. "

Kesh jumped off, and paced as he talked, hands gesticulating eagerly, as he made his points.

"Apply this to any action, diligently, and you yourself can test the veracity of what I am saying. You become exceedingly _skilled_ in whatever you do, because you are doing it with your entire being. There is no room for _grief,_ because you have not anticipated or insisted in a specific outcome. You are _peaceful_ all the time, because you know you have done the best, your emotions are not scattered and muddled. And the responsibility of the outcome is not yours anymore. As you practice this, you develop an _equanimity_ in your being. As you further your attempts to take every event, good or bad, in an equanimous manner , you will find your _ego_ erodes."

Sherlock sat watching Kesh, eyes moving fast as his intellect seemed to absorb Kesh's words directly into his being.

"Once the ego starts eroding, Sherlock, you are on the journey _home_. It is the ego, this periphery, the persona you create around the true brilliant center of yourself, this ego which is the cause of every misery in life. All actions and thoughts that proceed from the ego, from your periphery are inherently flawed. Once the action and thoughts starts flowing from the pristine centre of yourself, they are just as flawless and pristine."

"You talk of results. What does it matter? It is entirely the wrong thing to focus on. Your action, the only thing you have a choice over, is what the focus should be on…"

The friends continued to talk for a long time, Sherlock questioning, probing….Kesh explaining,clarifying…..

* * *

><p>Darkness enveloped most of the terrace, the only light coming from the lamp in Kesh's room, a warm glow of dispersed light through the translucent curtains.<p>

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa divan, legs perched across the coffee table, ankles crossed and moving gently rhythmically, as he rocked Kesh's head in his lap. His long, delicate fingers brushed Kesh's hair, as he listened to his friend. They had been talking for three hours. From time to time, Sherlock's fingers halted, as he questioned or argued with Kesh on a point, hands gesticulating, eyes narrowed. From time to time, Kesh held his other hand, and softly kissed his palm or stroked his face, as he answered. From time to time, they stayed silent and still as they reflected on what the other said. From time to time, one of them stood up and paced as he talked.

Haridas had come and gone, like a mother hen, clucking about dinner, but neither was hungry, neither willing to give up the tranquility of the moment, or their conversation.

"Sherlock, think of this world like a giant classroom. Every single moment, we are being taught lessons. Sometimes several lessons at the same time," said Kesh softly, as he held Sherlock's hand to his cheek, "There are no mistakes, _only lessons_. Even a failed experiment teaches you something! A lesson is _repeated _in various forms till it is thoroughly learned. When it is learned, you move on to the next lesson. From time to time, lessons are _re-presented_ to you, to see if you still remember them. There is no point in life when lessons are not being offered. If you are alive, lessons are being offered. "

"And remember this Sherlock, all answers come from within you. If you continue to look outside yourself, more and more lessons are added. Until you learn to look _within_. And to learn to look within, you have to contemplate, reflect, _meditate _incessantly. "

Sherlock leant his head at the back of the sofa, as he let his mind wrap around this. After a while, he said softly, "Kesh, can I join you tomorrow morning when you meditate?"

"Absolutely. But you will have to wake up early!" he warned.

"That is never a problem," said Sherlock shrugging his shoulders.

Kesh sighed deeply as he said reluctantly, "I need to go in now. I have a conference call with Craig and Judy in half an hour. I think it will continue for at least two hours. Maybe you should have some food and sleep," said Kesh.

Sherlock silently looked at Kesh and then slowly pulled him up, till Kesh's head was cradled in his shoulders. He wrapped his hands around Kesh's body and bent down to softly kiss the corner of his lips, as he murmured, "Oh, I think I will stay up for you," smiling against Kesh's lips.

"Why?" asked Kesh in a husky voice.

"Because I want you."

"You can have me, Sherlock. You already have me," said Kesh softly.

Sherlock firmed his kiss, as he savored the feel of Kesh's mobile mouth under his, tongues moving lazily, as they enjoyed each other. He slid his hand down, to cup his ass as he kissed. Soft sighs and tiny whimpers escaped Kesh, as he responded eagerly. Sherlock lifted his face finally, and angled Kesh's lips to the crook of his neck, as he rumbled seductively into his ear, "I will have you, Kesh. In every way. In every sense. Repeatedly." Kesh shivered in his arms, and burrowed himself closer.

He pulled back to meet Kesh's glazed look, and continued with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, poking his tongue out provocatively at him and wiggling it, "Today I am going to introduce you to the joys of _fe-ll-a-tio,_" he drawled as he enunciated each syllable separately. "I want you to know the pleasure of having my mouth wrapped around you, while you pulse and come in it," he nibbled at Kesh's earlobe as he whispered.

He chuckled as he noticed that Kesh was holding his breath, wide eyed, and suddenly pushed one hand to Kesh's belly and poked him, "My shy Kesh! Oh the things I want to do to you." Kesh bent into double as he tickled, peals of laughter breaking out involuntarily, struggling to stay on the divan, as Sherlock kept tickling him. Eventually he slid down, as both of them of them were panting with laughter.

As the laughter died down a bit and they caught their breath, Sherlock smiled and said in a quiet tone, "I will wait up for you. Come to bed when you are done, my Kesh."

To be continued….


	9. Nehabhikramanashoshti-Never a loss

The smell of jasmine wafted all around the terrace, spurred on by the gentle breeze. It was the deepest dark before dawn, a profound silence reigned.

Seated under the banyan tree, Sherlock adjusted himself, to emulate Kesh's posture. Cross legged, straight spine, hands relaxed, palms resting on his lap. Unlike Kesh, he had chosen to wear a t-shirt; he was reluctant to be distracted by the cold.

Seated opposite him, Kesh smiled, as he watched approvingly.

Sherlock looked at Kesh expectantly, with a furrowed brow. Hair scruffy, sitting still like a marble statue, he looked like a pale vision against the backdrop of the midnight blue sky, the only colour on his body, his brilliant blue-grey eyes, which shone with deep intelligence and intent.

"At Chopta, I told you everything that meditation is not. I want to tell you now, everything that meditation _is," _intoned Kesh, voice soft, mellifluous_._

"It is the _most selfish_ practice in the world. You can only ever do it for yourself. It can _never_ benefit anyone else. It is the one practice, where no effort is _ever_ lost. Even the least bit of effort reaps huge dividends. It is the practice, which as you progress will permanently and completely remove all fundamental grief from your life."

Sherlock's focused gaze, became even more so as his eyes narrowed. A long period of silence followed, both still and lost in contemplation.

"The mind is like a monkey, Sherlock. Leaping high like a drunkard from one branch to another, from one thought to another. From minute to minute your thoughts, opinions, desires, what motivates you changes. What is the point on trying to understand it? In the _initial stages_ it is important to focus on it, to understand it. But ultimately you need to align all the diverse and scattered domains of your mind, into a pinpoint focus, so that they cease bothering you. You have to transcend the mind."

"As you progress, you have to pierce this veil and go beyond the mind, to recognize that you are neither your body, nor your mind, nor your intellect."

Sherlock look startled, and stared at Kesh. His eyes flashed, as he demanded, "Then _who am I_?"

"Ah, finally _the_ question," Kesh said, smiled softly, "The _only_ goal of meditation. To find out, who you are…."

In soft murmurs he instructed Sherlock, as he closed his eyes.

They sat for a long time. Stillness surrounded them, as if only the two existed in the world. The day slowly dawned unnoticed. Birds woke up, chirping and flying around, the sun's rays painted the vista into a beautiful gold, bathing the two men as though in benediction.

* * *

><p>"No, thank you," said Sherlock, as he declined the offer of a second cup of tea with a smile. "That was delicious. Thank you."<p>

Uddhav's mother smiled and took the cups away.

They were at Uddhav's house in Rudraprayag, a modest small apartment. Earlier…..

"_Kesh, Kesh," Uddhav called out excitedly as he looked for him. _

"_I'm in here," Kesh answered from his room._

_Bounding up the stairs, two at a time, an animated Uddhav burst into the room. Nodding at Sherlock, he looked at Kesh with a beaming smile. "She said yes! Meera has agreed to the marriage!"_

_Kesh leaped of the bed, with a cry of delight and wrapped his friend in a hug, eyes twinkling with happiness. "That is great. I knew it!"_

"_We thought maybe, we can have the wedding the same time as Radha, next week. Everything is in place for the wedding anyways. We will just inform the guests that both brother and sister are getting married on the same day!"_

"_Good idea! There will be a lot of preparations to make though. Take whoever you need, Vedant, Haridas, Partha… And take whatever money you need from the account." Turning to Sherlock, he said smiling, "Sherlock I can't wait to take you to an Indian wedding. You will enjoy it so much."_

_Sherlock stood up from the chair, and walked towards Uddhav, a warm smile on his face, "Let me congratulate you, Uddhav. I hope everything goes well. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help. Kesh and I are at your service."_

"_Your presence will be enough, Sherlock. I cannot believe this is happening."_

Now, they were visiting Uddhav's elderly mother, to discuss the preparations. Her elation spilled in every expression of her kindly round face. "Kesh, I understand Meera's family may not participate in the wedding. You are her only family. She will need clothes, jewellery and other things. Uddhav and I thought, if it meets your approval, we could get Radha to help her get ready."

"Splendid, tell Radha to get whatever is needed. Money is not a problem."

Sherlock gestured to Kesh, and asked, "If you are going to be a while longer, can I take Vedant and the car with me? I want to go into the town, there are some things I need."

"That's all right, Sherlock. You go on home from there, I will catch up with you later."

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, please…Oh God, Sherlock…." Kesh gasped. His body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, racing heartbeat visible on his chest, hands clutching at the bedsheets, twisting them in knots, as he keened.<p>

Sherlock's lips wrapped around his hot aching shaft, as he massaged and handled his testicles. He opened his mouth wider as he engulfed Kesh entirely, nose buried in his pubic hair, nostrils flaring as he breathed in the raw masculine musk of sweat and arousal. As he applied greater suction, Kesh arched, a hand fluttering to gently fall on Sherlock's head. Sherlock withdrew, till only the thick swollen cockhead stretched his lips, swirling his tongue around Kesh's slit, wrapping a hand around the glistening root. He plunged back down.

It seemed like hours to Kesh, that Sherlock had been playing with him, keeping him just at the edge of orgasm. His mind had gone on a holiday, as all he felt conscious of was the hot heat of Sherlock's mouth and the gasps and cries he could not control.

Sherlock let go of him with a pop, as he waited for Kesh to catch his breath. He moved up, kissing and biting as he went along, hands kneading ass cheeks roughly, fingers brushing Kesh's cleft in fluttering touches, until he reached Kesh's mouth. Lips glistening with saliva, he plunged into his mouth, invading, dominating, allowing Kesh to taste and smell himself.

He slowly withdrew his lips and looked at Kesh's glazed eyes, gently petting his stomach. "Kesh, I want to do something," he whispered.

Voice filled with trust and need, Kesh said , "Whatever you want."

Moving out of the bed abruptly, Sherlock walked up to the bathroom and came back with a tube full of lube. Waving it at Kesh, as he climbed back in, to hold him close, he whispered huskily against his mouth, "Want to enter you, just with my fingers today."

"Okay," came the soft reply.

Sherlock smeared lube liberally on his index finger, and bent down to kiss Kesh again. He slid the wet digit down and parting his cheeks, he massaged the lube around Kesh's opening. Gentle caresses, just on the outside. Kesh's heart rate rocketed, as Sherlock looked at him, eyes darting all over, and asked, "Okay?"

A look of disbelief and awe flashed on Kesh's face, Sherlock frowned, "What is it, Kesh?"

Gulping, Kesh shook his head. Sherlock bent down and pressed a soft kiss, even as his finger continued its slow exploration of Kesh's cleft, up and down and swirling around his anus. "What is it, Kesh?" he repeated, rubbing noses tenderly.

"Nothing, its fine," said Kesh with a shy smile.

"It feels good, Kesh….I'll make you feel good."

"I know."

"I won't hurt you."

"I know."

Watching Kesh with puzzled eyes, Sherlock said, "There is something you are thinking, and not telling me. What is it, Kesh?"

Kesh cupped Sherlock's face with a slightly trembling hand, "I love you."

Sherlock looked at Kesh with tender eyes, as he placed another soft kiss on Kesh's lips, "I know," he whispered, "But why now?"

"I have loved you for so long. And I never imagined that a day would come when a part of you will be inside me….. It …It feels like a dream."

Sherlock looked at him silently for a long time, at the adoring eyes looking back, at the trusting, loving face. An unexpected prickle of wetness irritated his eyes, he tried to blink it off. "My Kesh. My lovely loving Kesh…When did I become qualified for such love…..You are extraordinary…" he murmured hoarsely, as he kissed Kesh again and again.

The kisses changed from soft to insistent, as his finger probed a bit firmly. Holding Kesh's gaze, he allowed the tip of the finger to breach the entrance. Kesh was holding his breath, moist lips parted, looking like he would like to drown inside Sherlock. With a low moan, Sherlock pushed slightly deeper, as he murmured, "Shhh….. that's right….. let me in, I've got you. Relax." Finger fully in, Sherlock probed, as he touched Kesh on the inside, pressed on the hot walls, a steady stream of "So tight, God, Kesh, so fucking tight...mine….can't wait to slide into you….my Kesh, relax, let go, let me feel you," against Kesh's panting mouth. He found and caressed his prostate, massaging it with firm strokes. "Sherlock….." Kesh gasped, hands gripping Sherlock's forearm almost painfully.

He buried his face deep, in the crook of Sherlock's neck, and let out soft moans as Sherlock moved his finger, more easily now, in and out of slick opening. Sherlock gently removed the finger to add more lube, before reinserting it, and adding just the tip of the middle finger. He whispered in Kesh's ears, "I need you in my mouth, Kesh. Want you to come in my mouth, with my fingers inside you."

He kissed and licked his way down, before taking Kesh in his mouth again. He slurped and sucked and licked , as two fingers moved, now thrusting and stretching, now massaging and stroking his prostate.

Kesh gave himself up fully to Sherlock, legs spread widely, Sherlock lying in between them, his head bobbing as he slowly took Kesh apart. Sherlock slowly ramped up the rhythm, his soft mouth and tongue, applying exquisite suction in tandem with the fingers fucking Kesh till he lost all coherence. Kesh's hips bucked and moved, as needy moans of "Sherlock….Sherlock, please, please….." escaped him. And then he was coming, helplessly locked in mid arch, pulsing into Sherlock's mouth, as Sherlock swallowed around him. As the tension in his body drained, Kesh slowly fell back, trembling all over, still whispering, "Sherlock….Oh my God, Sherlock…."

Wiping his mouth with his hands, Sherlock sat up on his knees, eyes urgent and hungry. Without preamble, he grasped his aching cock, as he leaned over Kesh, and started stroking. Eyes locked, the pair watched each other, one sated, one desperate, as squelching noises proceeded from Sherlock's strokes. Kesh looked up, dazed at Sherlock, and asked a silent question with his eyes. "Fuck yes," rasped Sherlock.

Kesh extended his hand, to join Sherlock's and clasped around his, as they both moved. Sherlock's other hand moved over Kesh's chest, as he rubbed and teased his nipples. He raised it further to plunge two fingers into Kesh's mouth. Eyes fixed on the mouth, as both their hands became a blur around his straining cock, he panted, " Kesh, fuck, yes, faster Kesh….. my Kesh…I'm going to come so hard…..on you. Next time…next time I will come in your mouth, I will hold you down and fuck that mouth…..Kesh, Kesh….Oh God, Kesh," as he erupted, hips moving as he spurted thick white streaks all over their entwined hands and on Kesh's belly, voice loud and hoarse with triumphant guttural sounds of pleasure.

Kesh watched as Sherlock came, toned chest glistening with sweat, head thrown back, graceful neck arching, hard neck muscles corded and tensed up, razor sharp cheekbones silhouetted around a face clenched in pleasure, like a sculpture in motion. He felt and saw the hot white liquid pulse out of Sherlock's turgid cock. As the breathy rasps died down, Sherlock straightened his neck and looked down dreamily with moist verdigris eyes, satiated and content.

_This…only this. I could look at this forever. This ethereal beauty, made more so with pleasure coursing through it. How can any one man be this perfect? I can never tire of this, watching this, I would do anything to bring him this pleasure, whenever he wants. Anything…_

Both were so mesmerized with each other, that it took a little while for them to regain their sense of surroundings. They smiled in delight, as Sherlock bent down to get his t-shirt and wipe both of them off, and to gently wipe the lube off Kesh's cleft, before he fell bonelessly on Kesh, and nuzzled him, smiling lazily, "Kesh, my lovely Kesh…."

* * *

><p>"Jesus, that feels great," drawled Lestrade, wiping his mouth, as he set his pitcher of ice cold lager back on the bar table. "Nothing like a cold beer in the afternoon, is there, John?"<p>

"God, yes!" said John, smacking his lips approvingly. "Don't usually drink in the middle of the day, but hell, its Sunday, you know?"

"So, how are Mary and Nora? Got any photos to show me?"

"Yeah,sure. Hang on…. Fucking phones," said John as he fiddled with his phone. Pointing and commenting on pictures as he went along, "A whole month! Its amazing how fast she is growing! Feels like just yesterday, that she was born."

"Yeah, they do that don't they. Soon 18 years will have passed, and it will still feel like just yesterday," replied Lestrade with a smile. "You're back to work then?" he continued.

"Yeah, joined two weeks ago. Can't sit at home, you know?" John said, shrugging his shoulders. "Mary manages well with her. Nothing much left for me to do, just shop for diapers and stuff. It's good to get out, every once in a while."

Lestrade watched his friend thoughtfully, as he took another altogether long sip of his beer.

"You're lucky. I am out all the time, no time to go home! Shit it's been a bad month. Fucking five murders, two high profile cases, I've got the Chief constantly hounding me. The department is stretched so thin, trying to follow up each thread of evidence." He looked at John meaningfully, "Could have used Sherlock this month. Forgot how convenient it is to have him around. Just comes in, looks around, yells a bit, insults everyone, gives us specific leads to chase, solves the case, and fucking swans out of there like a drama queen, you know?"

"Yeah, that's what he does. Sometimes it is hard to believe he is human. Like a magician. Even wears the cape and all," John snorted. "I can't believe it. Bloody wanker, just left without a word." John nodded his head ruefully.

They sat silent, enjoying their beer, as John looked around at half empty bar, and Lestrade watched him.

"He's not been himself since he got back, don't you think? Looked like he was always thinking about something. Anyway, any news?"

"Nope. Called Mycroft, the day I called you. Said he is in India, visiting a friend."

"A _friend_?"

"Yeah, my reaction exactly. Fuck, I didn't know he had any other friends, let alone in India!"

"So when's he coming back?"

"Mycroft didn't know, so he claims. Offered for me to send a message if I want to. I may do that, if I don't hear from him soon. All I want is to know that he is okay, you know?"

"Listen, maybe Mrs Hudson knows something. We're close to 221B, why don't we drop by and ask her?"

"You know what, that's a good idea, we can chip in to share a cab."

* * *

><p>"Hrishikesh…..Hrishikesh, wake up," soft, urgent taps sounded on the bedroom door.<p>

Quickly slinging a towel around his waist, Kesh opened the door, to a distraught looking Haridas. "There is a phone call on the landline. Your mobile must be switched off. It is Akrur. He wants to speak to you urgently."

Sherlock sat up in bed, sheet sliding off his naked torso, as he watched Kesh get dressed. He nodded at Haridas's namaste, and waited for them to leave, to get dressed in his pajamas and t-shirt as well.

Descending the stairs, he heard Kesh's subdued voice on the phone, "Don't worry, Akrur. I will be there in another few hours. Stay calm."

He hung up, and turned to a questioning Sherlock, a sad look on his usually cheerful face.

Sherlock strode up to him, and wrapped him in his arms wordlessly. Haridas quietly left the room, leaving the two alone. Kesh sagged in Sherlock's arms, as he held him, pressing soft kisses to his head, he waited.

After a while, Kesh stepped back and said, "My Guruma has passed away. I need to go to Harsil, Sherlock."

Sherlock stayed silent, as he led Kesh to the sofa, holding his arm, and pulling him, to sit on his spread lap. His arms enveloped Kesh, as he softly kissed his arms, his chest.

"She was old. She is the wife of my teacher, we call them _Guru_ in India. The one who taught me how to meditate, how to deal with things. She lives….lived in Harsil, it is a small village on the banks of the river Ganges, at the foothills of the mountain ranges from which the Ganges originates."

Sherlock looked at Kesh, still holding him, saying nothing. Kesh dropped his head on Sherlock's shoulder and took the silent comfort gratefully. After a while, he spoke, "I asked her many times to come and stay with me, after my Guru passed away. But she preferred living in her small hut where she spent all her married life, especially because it is so close to the Ganges. We call Ganges, the Ganga in India," he explained.

"Akrur is her son. He looks after a Farmer's Cooperative I set up years ago, at my Guru's injunction. He is a good man. Married, has two teenage daughters. He is older than me by ten years."

"I'm sorry, Kesh," Sherlock's deep baritone rumbled through Kesh's body after a period of silence. Kesh pressed closer, face pressed against Sherlock's neck, as tears fell from his eyes, body shaking with his quiet sobs. Sherlock held him tight, caressing his back gently. Eventually, Kesh calmed, as he said softly, "She was like a mother to me. Now only Haridas is left, I have no more elders."

Wiping his tears, he purposefully stood up, and said, "I'll need to leave in a few minutes. They are going to keep the body till my arrival, for cremation. Sherlock, I'll be away for at least thirteen days, I need to complete all the rituals, as per the Indian tradition. Could you please let Uddhav know, that I won't be here for the wedding."

"I would like to come with you, Kesh," said Sherlock, standing as well, to face his friend.

"But Sherlock, it is not a place fit for you. My Guruma lives….lived in a humble mud hut. She was a simple woman, there are no amenities, nothing. We sleep under the stars there. Stay here, be comfortable, help Uddhav with the marriage preparations…." he broke off, as Sherlock shook his head.

"You are not getting it, Kesh. I _am_ coming with you. Do you think physical comforts matter that much to me? I have stayed in homeless shelters and on the streets of Lahore, Serbia, Kabul…. for months while I was tracking Moriarty's people. My place is by your side."

Taking a deep breath, Kesh gave a small smile, as he said, "Very well. I'll get Haridas to call Vedant. We can pack. Haridas will let Uddhav know tomorrow." He stepped closer, and gave Sherlock a brief hug and left to find Haridas.

* * *

><p>"Thanks, Mrs Hudson, you are the best," hummed John, as he accepted the freshly baked biscuits. Lestrade sitting across him, was munching away, looking around at the cramped but homely kitchen. They had been there for some time now, making small talk, as a delighted Mrs Hudson bustled about making tea and chattering away.<p>

"It is so quiet around here, now that he is not there. I keep thinking I will hear him bellowing soon, in that deep voice that he has! He just got up one day and left, suitcase and all. Yelled out to me, not to worry and that he'll be back soon. It's been an entire month now," she concluded running out of breath.

Lestrade smiled obligingly, as he listened and munched. John appeared lost in his thoughts.

_Feels so strange to be here. I do not live here anymore. Yet it feels like home. Wish I could hear him yelling about something, or see him throw a tantrum….. She does not know anything…Why does it matter though? Mary and Nora, my beautiful Nora are waiting….. It's time to go…didn't even tell me he was going…. _

He blinked as he came out of his reverie. Mrs Hudson looked at him considerately as she said, "Well, you told me, what Mycroft said. Maybe you can talk to him again?"

"I hate talking to bloody Mycroft," muttered John.

"Oh, he's not so bad, John. He came here last week, you know?"

"Oh! Why? To spy on Sherlock, while he is away, you mean?"

"Oh ,gosh no! I went up with tea and biscuits for him. He was just sitting in Sherlock's chair, with his chin in his hands. Let me tell you, it gave me quite a fright, just sitting there, staring at nothing. Did not stir even when I left….. You told me he offered to pass on a message. How about you get in touch with him, huh? He's gone to India, not to the moon, you know?"

Taking a deep breath, John pushed his cup away, as he said thoughtfully, "Maybe I'll do that. Maybe email him or write. You know Sherlock doesn't like to talk much on the phone…Yes, maybe I'll do that."

To be continued….


	10. Tat Tvam Asi-That thou art

The body burned.

Set atop a rectangular pile of wooden logs, stiff with rigor mortis, the old, shriveled, lifeless body slowly caught fire. Aided by the gentle breeze, the flames of the still reluctant fire spread the smell of burning flesh mixed with the sandalwood essence sprinkled on the wood pile. The white sari crackled as it burned, sending sparks high into the air, competing with the musical sounds of rushing river water.

Kesh sat in the dirt, after having paid his respects, cross legged, and solemn, tears in his eyes. Sherlock sat next to him, as he observed the unfamiliar proceedings.

Men, all wearing white, stood around the funeral pyre, mostly mute, and in a reflective silence. Women, wearing white saris, stood in a group, several feet away, many sobbing, consoling each other. Akrur, tall, slim, face covered with a white stubble, wearing a white dhoti and kurta, stood with his head bowed and tears rolling down his eyes.

The backdrop could not have possibly been more picturesque. The mighty Ganges flowed just fifty metres away, tall mountains surrounded the narrow valley entirely covered with lush green vegetation . The river bank was covered with small stones and pebbles, and further away from the clearing, there was a huge apple orchard.

Akrur came up to Kesh, and bent down to whisper something. With a small nod, Kesh agreed. As Akrur straightened, Kesh closed his eyes. And he began chanting. In the weighty silence, his lips moved to chant a stirring hymn in Sanskrit. His voice slowly rose as it progressed, majestic and otherworldly, enveloping everything. A hushed silence fell, as the crowd of people gave themselves up to the soothing, rhythmic spiritual notes.

The fire was raging now, torso lost to view in the blazing crimson flames, feet peeking out at the edges of the inferno. Two men went to put more logs around the feet, and coaxed the flames towards them.

Sherlock watched, and as he watched and listened, his eyes closed instinctively, as he surrendered; to the soulful vibrant melody and the atmosphere which encompassed the merciless reminder of death, along with the promise of perpetual existence.

Afterwards, Kesh, Akrur and three other relatives, collected the still smouldering ashes with their bare hands, and put it in an earthen pot. The entire assembly walked barefoot to the river, and after a short ritual scattered the ashes into the river.

The assembly walked back, Kesh and Sherlock stayed back, looking at the river flow. Kesh looked like he was far away in his thoughts. Sherlock kept silent, and after some time asked, "Alright?"

Kesh looked at him, and sighed, "Yes." With a deep breath he continued, "She had led a full life, doing what she loved, with loved ones. She died of old age. What more can one ask for in life? Death is a fact of life, part of a single duality. If you accept one, you have to accept the other."

"Between the two singularities of birth and death, bounty and menace, we busy ourselves as best we can," he said with tears rolling down his face. Sherlock stepped forward and folded him in a gentle embrace, held him as he sobbed. The two stood together for a while.

Sherlock walked back with Kesh, stones digging into the bare feet, in a thoughtful silence.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, lunch will be served soon. Sorry about the delay," said Kesh as he sat down alongside Sherlock, gesturing to about twenty women, who were bustling about getting food organized for the large gathering. "In India, when someone dies, it is not permitted that food be cooked in that house for thirteen days. All the food is cooked at the neighbour's house and brought here."<p>

Sherlock watched, as a flurry of white saris fluttered, as women called out to each other, pots banged with the tinkling notes of glass and metal bracelets that the women folk traditionally wore.

The front yard was covered with red dirt, swept clean, and at one end stood a square mud hut. The walls were high, covered in dried cow dung, sprigs of undigested vegetation poking out of the walls. The roof was thatched leaves stitched together, covered with a black tarpaulin. Lining the yard, were some trees and plants interspersed with small hills of dried cowdung shaped into patties, the size of plates. Outside the yard, in a separate area, three cows chewed dried hay, swatting flies off their back lazily with their tails.

The men, around fifty in number, were sitting on the ground, talking in hushed whispers.

Everyone who came in, to pay their condolences, stared at Sherlock, sitting alongside Kesh, pale and silent, with undisguised curiosity. They whispered to ask each other, who this foreigner was. As soon as they were informed, that he was with Kesh, they either did namaste to him, or bowed their head deferentially and moved away.

"Relatives and friends come from far and wide to attend the funeral, and close ones stays with the family for the thirteen days," explained Kesh.

Akrur walked up to them, and respectfully addressing both, said, "Kesh, Sherlock, lunch is about to be served, you can wash your hands and take a seat."

As the men sat down in a line, the women came, bearing plates and bowls made of dried leaves, stitched together with small wooden toothpick shaped shards. They lay one in front of each man. _A humble offering of simple lunch served on leaves_. Sherlock could not remember when he had had a more satisfying meal.

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, do you want to come with me tomorrow for meditation," asked Kesh, as he lay on his side, arm tucked under his head, on a cotton mattress on the ground.<p>

Lying on a similar mattress from across Kesh, Sherlock adjusted his pillow, as he pulled the thick blanket around him and said, "Are you up to it? Shouldn't you take a break?"

"On the contrary, Sherlock. It is when you feel least up to it, that it is needed the most."

"Then yes, we will go together."

The night air was cool and fragrant, the gushing river water created a soothing backdrop. They were sleeping in the yard, around twenty of them, some with mattresses, some with just a sheet on the ground. There were not enough pillows to go around.

"Okay I'll wake you. There is a small beautiful temple close to this house, of Lord Shiva. It is probably the only peaceful place around here that one can sit comfortably, without pebbles and stones digging into one's bottom."

"Won't the temple be closed?" asked Sherlock.

"Lord Shiva's temple is never closed," replied Kesh. "The women will be up early too. There is only one big communal place to take a bath, so they wake up before the men and use it and proceed with the housework. Then the men take a bath, as the women get breakfast ready," explained Kesh.

Sherlock gave a huge open mouthed vocal yawn, as he said, "I'm buggered. It's been a long day, Kesh."

"Yes, it has. Good night, Sherlock."

Sherlock slept under the stars.

* * *

><p>It was a less subdued and more animated group on the next day, as men gathered around talking.<p>

Sherlock watched all afternoon, as many came to express their condolences. A steady stream of people walked up to Kesh, and bowing their heads in respect, palms folded, spoke to him in hushed whispers. Kesh stood tall and dignified and listened to each one, with a warm, welcoming attitude, no sign of irritation or pride.

Standing next to Sherlock, Akrur said, "Kesh owns a lot of land in this area. Before my father passed away, he was very worried about the plight of the poor villagers. Kesh wanted to give them money, build houses. But my father did not permit him this. He preferred that they learn to earn their own livelihood. So Kesh set up a Farmer's Cooperative, where the local farmers can get subsidized seeds and fertilizers. And he arranged for experts to visit every three months, to teach them about farming techniques, and other improvements."

"Some don't own land for farming, but have cattle. Along with Kesh, we set up a network to have milk distribution centralized, so that everyone gets a fair rate. I have been managing things here the past few years. Kesh never interferes, but he would come every couple of months to see my mother."

"Every time he came, he was compelled to stay for at least two to three days. Word would spread that he was here, and people would come in droves to meet him, from this and surrounding villages. Ordinary people, tribal people, the locally important people…"

Sherlock watched as one man started crying as he was talking to Kesh; Kesh put his hand on his shoulder obviously giving reassurances.

Akrur continued, "Kesh has done a lot for this village and other villages around here. These people owe him a lot. They are all coming to either thank him or ask for his help. I have never known him to turn anyone down."

Someone called out to Akrur, so apologizing he walked away.

Sherlock _observed._

* * *

><p>The two friends sat on the banks of the river, watching the hypnotic fast flow of the water. They were perched on big black rocks, letting their feet dangle in the cool water, which formed eddies around their feet. The midday sun was overhead, but it was a cloudy dull day, the need for shade had not yet driven them towards shelter.<p>

For the past three days, Sherlock and Kesh would wake up before daybreak, and using a small kerosene lantern, make their way to the temple. There they would take positions, in the most serene place Sherlock had ever experienced, and he would follow Kesh's instructions, and clarify his doubts as he proceeded to advance in the practice of meditation.

Sherlock traced lazy patterns in the river, with a large stick he had found on the ground. "Why are there so many rituals surrounding death over here, Kesh?" he asked.

"It is believed that it is the body which dies, the soul is immortal," answered Kesh after a pause. "Just like one removes old used clothes, and puts on new ones, the soul removes the old body once the incarnational intent is complete, and takes on a new one. The rituals are prayers for the soul to get a body conducive to spiritual success."

Sherlock stared at the river, as he took this in.

"Do you believe in all this, Kesh? Do you believe in God?"

Kesh glanced at Sherlock silently, before looking away and staring fixedly into the distance. The silence became weighty, as he pondered on his answer.

Changing his position, so that he now faced Sherlock, he finally said, "Sherlock, I never asked you, how it is that you decided to come to India. Can you tell me in detail, what happened, what prompted you, the events that led to it?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed, as he scanned Kesh's face, and found only intent. He was not sure why Kesh was asking this, but knew it was deliberate.

He recounted in faithful detail, the day at the hospital when John's daughter was born, coming home, crying in the shower, asking himself for help, lying down on the couch to analyse, falling asleep, waking up thinking of Kesh, Mycroft's arrival and what they had discussed.

After he was done, Kesh asked softly, "Who did you ask for help in the shower?"

"My own self."

"Which self, Sherlock?... Your _outward_ self with which you faced the world and exhibited a nonchalance and irritation to the world, and tried to pretend you were functioning well?... Your _emotional_ self, who was the cause of the unrequited love and grief and frustration in the first place? ….Your _intellectua_l self, who had tried ceaselessly to analyse and compute the situation, but was unable to find a solution, having become a slave to the vagaries of your emotional self? …..Or some _other_ self?" Kesh leaned forward, a look of intensity glowing on his face, as if urging Sherlock to think.

Sherlock reflected in silence for a while, and then his eyes widened with understanding.

"No, none of those. Not the outward, not the emotional, not the intellect. My inner self. _Me_," he said finally.

Tears shone in Kesh's eyes, as with a soft, satisfied smile, he leaned back, and said, "_That_ is your Higher Self. _Tha_t is the real _you_. _That_ is your innermost confidante, guide, friend. _That _will never abandon you. _That_ is the eternal subject, the substratum over which all your life experiences happen, over which all your thoughts and emotions are reflected. _That_ always has your highest good in mind. _That_ is the reflection of Divinity in you."

"Belief in your higher Self or Divinity, is not a choice. It dawns upon you, through doubt, through experience, through grace and through life itself. Divinity as a belief is simply _religion_. Divinity as an experience is _spirituality_."

* * *

><p>It was the afternoon of the fourth day.<p>

Everyone was sitting in the yard, for an afternoon siesta. Summer had arrived, and here on the plains, the temperature climbed in the afternoons, making it a sluggish period for most.

A car parked close by, and Uddhav walked in. He went up straight to Kesh and hugged him, "Kesh, I'm so sorry about Guruma. And sorry I took so long to come. I got tied up with postponing the weddings."

"What! Why?"

"If you think either Radha or Meera or I are getting married in your absence, you are crazy, my friend," said Uddhav simply. "I've made all the arrangements. We've just postponed it by a fortnight. I had to rearrange the wedding hall and caterers etc. And inform all the guests."

He squeezed Kesh's arm before he could reply, and walked over to Akrur, and with a hug, offered his condolences.

Uddhav left later in the evening, many commitments awaited his attendance. "Kesh, you will of course stay the full thirteen days. Sherlock, would you like to come back with me?"

"Thank you, Uddhav, but no. I will return with Kesh."

* * *

><p>They sat by the banks of the river, talking. Life had settled into a pattern temporarily.<p>

Get up, go for meditation for around three hours. Come back, have a bath. Sherlock had gotten used to the communal bath enclosure by now. Then a ritual. Then they would sit around in the yard talking to various people. Go for a walk in the evening by the river. Talk for hours, come back for dinner. Sleep.

_On the first morning, Sherlock and Kesh entered with towels in an open air enclosure, of bare brick walls. Three other men were having a bath as well, tight dhotis forming a sling around their hips, covering their crotches. Two were sitting on the ground, and one standing. Each had his own plastic bucket and tumbler. They were pouring water using the tumbler, talking as they bathed. As soon as Kesh and Sherlock entered, they greeted them, and with hurried movements, finished their bath and left. _

"_Why did they leave so quickly? Did we interrupt them?"_

"_No, it is just a gesture of respect and deference," Kesh shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, they may feel, you might be embarrassed, not being used to this."_

"_Well, it's certainly novel," Sherlock said smiling at a tattered low plastic stool and the surrounds. Following Kesh's lead, he quickly undressed to his pants and sat on a stool adjusting his long gangly legs with difficulty and started bathing himself. Raising his eyebrow cockily, watching Kesh with a suggestive expression, he asked, "Kesh, is anyone likely to come here?_

"_Well, yes, it is possible," Kesh laughed. "You are incorrigible."_

_They laughed and bathed, giving each other mock lewd looks and talking in hushed whispers._

Kesh pointed up the opposite mountain, and said, "Sherlock, I want to take you up there. It is about an hours drive from here. It is a very auspicious pilgrimage site, called Gangotri. There is a big temple for Mother Ganga up there. A few hours hike from there is the edge of the glacier, from which the Ganges originates, called Gaumukh."

Sherlock looked up the mountain, as Kesh continued, "Religious tourism is big in India. There are four major sites in these ranges, called Char dham. I will take you to Gangotri before we leave, and I am quite determined to take you to Kedarnath. In fact, in about a fortnight's time, the tourist season will start. Rudraprayag will be crowded beyond belief. Literally hundreds of thousands of people come during the short 3-4 months that the season lasts."

After some time, Sherlock declared, "I want to go for a swim, is that alright, Kesh?"

"By all means, Sherlock, I'll get your towel," answered Kesh, as he stood up to jog back to the house.

* * *

><p>Kesh waited, sitting under the shade of a tree, watching Sherlock enjoying his swim. Eventually, he came out.<p>

Sherlock walked towards Kesh, his almost naked body glowing with droplets of water shimmering in the afternoon sun, long locks plastered to his alabaster forehead, his smile getting increasingly wicked as he watched the hungry, desperate look in Kesh's eyes, as he scanned Sherlock's body, gaze lingering on his crotch.

He paused a few feet away, and shook his head like a dog, spraying drops of water from his hair on all sides. And then he deliberately posed, stretching his arms over his head with fingers interlocked, in a cat like movement, and twisted his torso, seemingly oblivious to Kesh's mute reverent gaze.

He twisted back, and sashayed slowly, seductive smile on his face, as he stood in front of Kesh, legs slightly spread, angling his crotch in front of his face, "Kesh?" he said softly.

"Hmm…," said Kesh absently, as his pupils widened and mouth parted slightly.

"Kesh…." he repeated with an amused smile, as Kesh's eyes ran up his torso to meet his eyes. Looking embarrassed at being caught out, Kesh smiled and looked away. Sherlock quickly took off the wet pants and put on his linen trousers and with a laugh sat down next to him, both facing the river. He angled his hand close to Kesh's on the ground, he hooked his little finger to Kesh's, as he asked, "Is there anywhere we can be alone?"

Kesh shook his head and looked around with desperation, noting the occasional farmer who waved as he walked past, to the village women coming to fill water in their earthen pots. Sherlock looked around innocently as well, as if taking in the scenery.

Suddenly, Kesh's eyes brightened, and he hissed, "Sherlock, the apple orchard," gesturing to the dense growth of numerous apple trees beyond the clearing. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, as he peered, "Won't someone come there, there may be workers." Kesh said simply, shrugging his shoulders, "Well, it is my orchard. And it is not apple growing season, so I doubt anyone will be there."

Sherlock abruptly jumped up with enthusiasm, "Let's leave our towels and clothes here….. race you to it?" he said as he ran barefoot towards the dense grove. Kesh followed, and both ran straight in, dodging trees, as they weaved, laughing like two schoolboys. "Over there," called out Sherlock after they were engulfed in the thicket, as he ran to a rundown tin shack filled with rusted farming equipment, and led Kesh behind it. There was a huge banyan tree a few feet from the shack, and by standing in between the shack and the tree, they would be easily hidden. The orchard was deserted anyways.

They both leaned against the wall of the shack, laughing as they caught their breath. "I feel like a randy teenager, for fuck's sake," laughed Sherlock. Looking at Kesh, his smile slowly vanished as a heated look passed between them.

Pulling Kesh forcefully towards him, he crowded him against the tree. They kissed gently at first, savouring their closeness after this long, little nips and pecks. Things got heated his hands massaged Kesh's ass, as he pushed against their erections together. Hands tangled in Kesh's locks, he pulled it, to bare his neck, as he licked and sucked, "Want you so much," he rasped hoarsely. Kesh bucked towards him, yielding, pliant, allowing the rough, bruising kisses. "So long, it's been so long….." Sherlock said as he roughly rolled one nipple and pinched it. Kesh gasped, "Sherlock. Sherlock, please….."

Sherlock pushed one of Kesh's palm to his crotch with intent. As Kesh held his length and rubbed, Sherlock moaned loudly, "Fuck, Kesh, just like that…so good."

Kesh panted in his ear, as he continued to stroke Sherlock's length through his trousers. "Please, Sherlock…..please." Sherlock kissed his face, all over, as he asked breathlessly, "Tell me, Kesh. Tell me what you want."

"Sherlock, can I…." Kesh broke of with a gasp, as Sherlock pressed his hand against Kesh between his legs to fondle his balls. He drew back and searched Kesh's face, as his voice dropped to a rumbling whisper, "Can you what, Kesh?" Kesh looked at him, in silent desperation, as an understanding look flashed over Sherlock's face. He arched an eyebrow, as he asked, "Are you sure?" Kesh nodded, and with a sudden euphoric urgency, Sherlock cried out, "Fuck, yes…yes…." He looked around wildly, and said, "You can't kneel on the ground, your knees will hurt… Here, sit on this," as he pushed Kesh towards a rock and guided him down.

Sherlock put a warm palm on the nape of Kesh's neck, as he squatted down to peer into Kesh's eyes. He squeezed as he said quietly, "You don't have to do this, Kesh…it is…it is fine….don't feel you have to do anything," he whispered.

"I want to Sherlock, so badly…. Please… ?" answered Kesh. Sherlock bent forward to touch their foreheads together. Continuing in a serious tone, "I'm clean, Kesh. I had myself tested after Serbia, and haven't been with anyone since." Kesh said softly against Sherlock's lips, "I don't care." Sherlock snorted as he pulled back, shaking his head, "Kesh…my loving, trusting Kesh." He took a deep breath, as he asked again, "Are you sure?"

"Yes….please, Sherlock."

Sherlock stood up, and looked around again, and then back down at Kesh's upturned face. Biting his lower lip with his teeth, he looked on ravenously, even as he instructed in a deep, husky voice, "Gently, Kesh. Don't let me hurt you. Don't take too much in…" and unzipped his trousers, to spring his erection free.

Kesh looked at the thick hard cock in front of him, as he inhaled greedily the scent of river water mixed with male arousal. A pearly drop of precome glistened at the tip, as Kesh leaned forward to hold the base of the cock in his fist and licked the drop off. Sherlock gasped. He opened his mouth wide, as he accommodated the head into his mouth.

_Bitter, salty, Sherlock. Look at him, so beautiful, even his erection is so beautiful. I wonder how much I can fit in. Right, I'll suck and stroke, like he did. I want to do it right….. want to please him….give him pleasure…..I have Sherlock's cock in my mouth!_

At the first feel of Kesh's mouth, Sherlock groaned, and leaned forward, hunched over the wall, both hands clasped in fists, as he watched his length disappear into Kesh's willing hot, wet mouth. He steeled himself for restraint. "Hold the base, Kesh, don't try to overdo it…." he said huskily.

_God, so long, it's been so long since I've done this. Look at him, all uncoordinated, but so enthusiastic. Behave, Sherlock. Don't move, let him find his rhythm….Fuck, that feels good…..don't hurt him, don't scare him. Good, he is getting it…..Kesh, my lovely Kesh._

Kesh found his rhythm, as he stroked and sucked, swirling his tongue the way Sherlock had. Sherlock was panting open mouthed, eyes fixed down, watching his glistening cock going in and out of Kesh's mouth. He moaned loudly, "That's perfect, Kesh. It feels so good….. Kesh, I'll warn you when I'm about to come, so you can withdraw."

Kesh let go of him, as he looked up and said hoarsely, "Why? Why would l make all that effort and let go of the prize?"

Sherlock groaned, as he put a gentle hand on Kesh's head and guided himself back in, "So close, Kesh…..suck harder….Just like that….so good…..faster, Kesh," as he slowly moved his hips in tandem with Kesh's sucks. As his orgasm approached, his moans got louder, "Kesh, I'm close….Kesh…Fuck, I'm coming….Kesh," as he spurted, heaving loudly, his hand pressed on Kesh's hair, as Kesh sucked and swallowed.

Loose limbed and a bit dizzy, as he recovered from the intense contractions, he slid down to fall on Kesh's lap, showering uncoordinated open kisses on any part of Kesh he could reach, trembling in reaction. Kesh held him close and slid to the ground, keeping Sherlock between his legs, embracing him. Sherlock rested for a bit on his chest, and after a while, looked up at Kesh, tracing his lips with feather light fingers, "Thank you. That was literally _mind blowing_. I think my brain short circuited."

Kesh laughed in delight as he bent down to kiss Sherlock saying, "I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I was allowed to do that. Thank you." Sherlock arched a disbelieving eyebrow, "You do know, it is the other way around. I am the one supposed to be doing the thanking."

"I don't care…..but I do feel thankful….did I please you?" asked Kesh.

"Oh Kesh, if you think I did you a favour, let me tell you I'd be happy to do this favour again and again. And yes you pleased me a lot" said Sherlock looking up at an awestruck but gleeful Kesh, and laughed.

Kesh smiled and nuzzled Sherlock and kept whispering over and over, "I love you…..I love you so much."

* * *

><p>"Sherlock bhaiyya, Sherlock bhaiyya," a female voice called out.<p>

Sitting alone on the river banks, Sherlock turned around so fast, he almost gave himself a whiplash! It felt surreal to hear the familiar "_bhaiyya_", meaning "brother", added to his name.

He saw Akrur's wife standing, in her white sari, petite and lovely, smile at him, "Please, Sherlock bhaiyya, can you help us? All the men are out to the Farmer's Cooperative meeting, and we need a tall person, to help us finish putting cowdung on the walls of our house."

Sherlock rose quickly, with a reassuring smile, as he approached her and wordlessly followed her home.

_Put cow dung. On the walls of their house. Cow dung….. cow dung…. _

They reached the house, where two other women were standing next to the wall. Two buckets stood close by, filled with cow dung. Akrur's wife explained, "We take the dried cow dung patties," pointing to the piles, "and when we want to apply it, we mix with a little water to make it a bit soft. And then apply with our hands to the wall, and smooth it down, so that it looks nice." She demonstrated the technique.

"Here let me show you," so saying, she took one of Sherlock's big hands and dipped it in the mixture. It felt cool and had a unique odour that was surprisingly inoffensive. She guided him into cupping his palm to hold a good amount and then plaster it to the wall. And pressed down on his hand as he ran it over to smooth it till no more bumps were left. Satisfied, she stepped back, to say, "Please Sherlock bhaiyya, we can't reach the top, we are short. Can you do it?"

With a wry grin, Sherlock got into the spirit of it, as he slowly plastered the cow dung. When he was not satisfied at the smoothness, he started scraping it off, and reapplying, taking care to make it perfect. The women meanwhile, after having supervised him for a while, left him to do other household chores.

He was still hard at it, when Kesh returned with Akrur and other men.

Kesh watched dumbstruck at the lithe pale figure, with brows furrowed in concentration, blue-gray eyes darting hither and thither, working away, hands soiled upto this elbows, cowdung splatters on his clothes, feet caked in mud and cowdung. A slow smile spread across his face, as he leaned against a tree, arms folded along his chest, and watched and watched.

* * *

><p>"The Ganga is very sacred to us, Sherlock. It is believed that if you bathe in her or drink her water, all your sins are washed away. At this place, the Ganga is called Bhagirathi," explained Kesh as he spread his arms to gesture to the vision before Sherlock.<p>

They were at Gangotri, a bit past the huge white temple, having moved away from the swelling crowd who had come to visit the temple.

The river roared. Huge boulders were in her path, and the speeding water currents created numerous eddies, as the waters danced and glimmered and sprayed and foamed. The sound was deafening, the sight spectacular.

"I can't let you bathe here though, it is too dangerous… maybe I will get you to drink some of her water," Kesh called out, as he ran to the river, and dipped his hand in. He brought out a cupped palm, with fresh, cold mountain water, and extended it to Sherlock's lips. Sherlock tilted his head back and drank.

* * *

><p>"Sorry to bother you, Kesh bhaiyya, I just wanted to confirm that we are leaving in the morning," asked Vedant, as both Sherlock and Kesh emerged from the apple orchard, giggling like girls, nudging and jostling each other<p>

Taken aback, Kesh just managed to gather his wits and keep the guilt off his face and said, "Yes, Vedant, that is correct. You can make sure we are ready to go."

Vedant did namaste as he left. As soon as he turned, they turned to each other and started giggling again. "Almost caught in the act, Kesh," said Sherlock.

"Almost," agreed Kesh.

* * *

><p>It was the morning of the fourteenth day. Dawn had set in, the sun had yet to make an appearance. Sherlock watched as about a hundred men, women and children had gathered in and surrounding the compound; they were there to farewell Kesh and Sherlock.<p>

Even as they inched towards the waiting car, men took turns to come up and said a few words, women came up, with shy smiles and handed parcels of food, fruits, pickles forcefully, in the hands of Vedant and Sherlock.

Finally Akrur stepped up, as the car door opened. The weather beaten, gaunt face looked up at Sherlock, as he stood in front of Sherlock, and said, "You came to us in our hour of grief. Thank you for coming." Folding his palms in namaste, he continued, "If we made a mistake in caring for you, please forgive us. And do come back, whenever you want. This is your home too. Never forget that."

Overwhelmed, Sherlock blinked back tears, as he spontaneously stepped forward towards the simple man in front of him. He surprised himself, when he embraced Akrur, and choked out, "It is I who am grateful. For all your hospitality. I am sorry for the loss of Guruma. Take care of yourselves and all these people."

"Shall we go?" asked Kesh, holding on to a car door.

Sherlock looked around, at the mountains, the river, the people before turning back to Kesh….._A fortnight I will always carry with me_….. "Yes," he answered.

To be continued….

* * *

><p>I wanted to write essays about the meditation sessions that Kesh and Sherlock have. Then I figured the uninterested will get bored. If anyone has any questions or comments, I welcome them. You can leave a Private Message or email me at sherlockfan221 at gmail dot com<p> 


	11. Ishavasyamidamsarvam-All is pervaded

"But, Sherlock, _this_ color will look better," said the smartly dressed woman in her thirties, insistently. "Let me at least drape it on you, then you look at yourself in the mirror. You have the most exquisite blue-gray eyes, it will enhance their beauty." She draped a deep turquoise fabric made in decadent silk, over his broad shoulders, as she forcefully dragged him to the full length mirror on the wall at the corner of Sherlock's bedroom.

She nodded and said to the young man who was scrambling near the bed, trying to keep up with her demands, as he offered samples from the veritable mountain of various fabrics on the bed. "Look at him, how beautiful he looks, he will look like a prince, like God walking on earth." Sherlock blushed as he looked at her incredulously.

_How are these people so familiar with absolute strangers. Aren't they afraid of being rebuffed….I'm going to kill Kesh for leaving me alone with them…..Bloody hell, this color does look good on me….Where is he? What the hell is a Sherwani anyways….I have got perfectly good suits…..damn it, is it a marriage or a circus. _

"I don't want the whole Sherwani to be this color, it looks too rich. How about we use a neutral color as background and elevate the effects with this color?" she asked. Sherlock nodded his approval, wanting the ordeal to be over, as he braced himself for the inevitable measurement taking, just wanting it to be over.

"What is a Sherwani anyways?"

"Oh it's a traditional Indian knee length coat worn during weddings, buttoned to the top, with a churidar as the bottom. It's made of silk and can be as ornate as one wishes with embroidery and such," she replied absently as she turned him this way and that, assessingly, measuring tape in hand.

She continued, "You know I met Kesh at school in Nainital. My garment business is now in Delhi. When he called, asking me to come here all the way from Delhi, to get you dressed for the wedding, I was so taken aback. It is so unlike him to ask for something. He is the one, who encouraged me, and helped me to set up my business. I am forever in his debt, so when he called, I came running," she continued. "He said, and I quote, '_Neha, he is devastatingly good looking, I want to see if that can possibly be enhanced_.' I see he was not exaggerating." she said with an appraising smile.

Sherlock quirked his lips mechanically as he said, "Let's just get on with it, shall we?"

* * *

><p>"Haridas, where's Kesh?" demanded Sherlock.<p>

A harassed looking Haridas stood in the driveway, yelling out directions to three men who were busy building a _pandal_, a temporary structure using bamboos and thick colorful embroidered cloth, to shelter the entire driveway and front yard from the elements. Four other men, supervised by Shankar, were busy fixing colorful lights on all the surrounding trees and the compound wall.

In the massive backyard, food preparations by caterers were in full swing, large pots with steaming curries and biryanis being cooked, a large vessel with hot boiling oil, frying puris for the luncheon guests. Meera and her girlfriends fluttered around, tasting, instructing, helping.

Haridas turned to Sherlock with a smile, "He's gone with Uddhav to see the caterer's. He didn't want to go, but Uddhav insisted that he wanted his opinion on the choice of food. You were with the tailors, so he left. He should be back for lunch soon."

"Seriously, Haridas, the number of people around this place seems to be swelling exponentially by the minute. We'll be overrun soon!" Sherlock retorted, with a grimace.

"Oh Sherlock, this is the way we celebrate. Meera is getting married from this house after all, as the daughter of the house. All our friends and family will be eating here for the next three days from tomorrow, till the wedding is over. All the workers who work for Kesh, their spouses, children, the school workers, hospital workers. All are invited to partake in the meals and be with us. Today is the last quiet day you will have for the next four days!" Haridas exclaimed.

"You call this _quiet_?"

"Well today we just have the family and workers who have come to set everything up," answered Haridas, shrugging his shoulders, and then a let out delighted cackle at the wry look on Sherlock's face. Then he walked past Sherlock, shouting at the men, "At this rate, she can get married next year, can't you hurry up?"

Turning back he told Sherlock pointedly, "Meera is looking for you, she said you must have lunch, before you disappear again."

Sherlock groaned.

* * *

><p>Sherlock entered Kesh's bedroom, groaning, as Kesh looked up from his vantage point on the chair. He dove head down on the bed, and holding his stomach groaned again, "For for God's sake Kesh, I hate Meera. She should have been a school principal," he said, as he rolled around in mock distress.<p>

"Made you eat again, did she?"

"Why can't she understand, I don't like eating much or regularly? Food slows me down. Ugh I want to kill her,_ Sherlock sir, please sir, you are too thin. It looks very bad for us, that our guest is too thin_, _what will people say about us,_" Sherlock mimed, moving his head and wagging his fingers, as suddenly animated, he sat up.

Kesh laughed aloud, as Sherlock glowered, "Fucking emotional blackmail, that's what's going on in this house," and threw a pillow at Kesh's head. "Oh I've eaten so much, I'm going to die…..I should have stayed in Harsil, _much_ more civilized people there," Sherlock voice sounded muffled, as he put a pillow on head and buried his face in it.

Kesh laughed aloud at Sherlock's histrionics. As his laughter died, he looked at his friend's supine figure; linen trousers elegantly creased and hugging his figure, tight white shirt defining every torso muscle, toes wriggling, face hidden by the pillow, long fair forearms wound tightly around it, his tangled soft curls sprawled all over the bed. He said softly, "Maybe you should….."

"Maybe I should what?" Sherlock asked, lifting the pillow off his face and looking at Kesh.

Clearing his throat, Kesh said huskily, "Maybe you should work off some of that sudden intake."

Sherlock stared at him for a while, eyes widening in amazement, "Kesh, are you coming on to me?"

"Maybe?" Kesh said hesitantly.

A slow seductive smile spread on Sherlock's face, as he hissed delightedly, "Come here, _you_."

As Kesh reached the edge of the bed, Sherlock grabbed his wrist and jerked him forward, till he had Kesh sprawled over him. "Kesh…" he said as he held him close, and inhaled the familiar sandalwood, "My Kesh…" He tangled his hand's in Kesh's hair and pulled it back, to peer at him, eyebrow arched smugly, "Want me?"

"Yes….always."

Sherlock pushed Kesh's cradled head forward as he nipped his lip, and whispered, "You think I am _devastatingly good looking_, do you?"

"How….Oh, Neha?" Kesh blushed.

Sherlock smiled and then kissed Kesh, long intimate kisses, running his tongue over his lips, before invading his mouth, hands running along Kesh's back to cup his ass, and grind him closer. "My Kesh, how much you love me."

Kesh gasped, as Sherlock dipped his fingers into his cleft suggestively, even as he spread his legs to allow him access. "Sherlock…. Sherlock, when will you…..?" he broke off.

Sherlock took in the diffidence in Kesh's eyes, as he drew back.

"Come here, lie down here," he said, as he adjusted them side by side, with Kesh lying on his back, and Sherlock lay propped up on his elbows, next to him. With one hand he played with Kesh's hair, as he asked softly, "When will I what, Kesh?"

"When will you have sex with me?"

Sherlock frowned, looking puzzled, "When will I have sex with you? What do you think we have been doing? We've been having sex every single day, since I first touched you…..well, except for the first few days in Harsil, of course."

"No," said Kesh taking in a deep breath, "when will you…..when will you have actual sex…. anal sex with me?"

Sherlock continued to play with his hair delicately, as he bent down to nuzzle his face to Kesh's chest. After a while, he drew back and meeting Kesh's earnest eyes, whispered gently, "Do you feel ready?"

Kesh raised his shoulders in a slight shrug, as he replied, "I don't know….I think so…..Do you think I am?"

Sherlock rubbed noses with Kesh, "We don't have to rush into anything, Kesh. It is a big step, especially for you."

"Do you still want to?"

Sherlock groaned, as he replied huskily, "You have no idea, Kesh…..but I'm fine with waiting too," he bent down and kissed Kesh's chest. "Or maybe you can penetrate me first. That's good as well. Then I don't have to worry about hurting you," he suggested.

Kesh shook his head as he buried his face in Sherlock, "No, no I can't do that."

"What, _why_?"

Kesh sat up abruptly after a period of silence, and turned to Sherlock, "Because I wouldn't have a clue about what I'm doing and because….." his voice trailed off.

"And because, what?"

Kesh bent down and held Sherlock's face in his palms, kissed his lips softly, "It is such an intimate thing to do."

Sherlock frowned, "But you are willing to let me have you?"

"That's different. I love you, I'm yours…you can take your pleasure from me…."

Sherlock took his hand and clasped it as he said curiously, "Kesh, you do know that there is no taking? It is mutually pleasurable, you do know that, right?" At Kesh's nod, he averted his eyes, absently kissing Kesh's hand, a thoughtful look in his eyes. He looked back at Kesh, and frowned as he said, "Kesh…..I know the depth and intensity of your love for me. I do not understand it, but I accept it joyfully…..You are very dear to me, I care about you deeply…..But I'm not sure I love you the same way."

"I know," said Kesh with a tender smile.

"It does not bother you?"

"Why should it, what does my love have to do with how you feel?" Kesh continued smiling, as Sherlock's frown deepened.

"Sherlock, I've loved you since I came to know you. I loved you while you were here, I loved you when you left, and if and when you choose to leave again, I'll still love you. It has nothing to do with how you feel. You are magnificent, you exist, you came into my life….. that is enough…all of this," Kesh continued, waving his hand, "All of this, your being here, your choosing to stay with me, spend time with me, choosing to touch me, letting me touch you…this is all a beautiful gift for me, a bonus. I mean to enjoy every minute of it while it lasts."

Sherlock stared at him, then shaking his head, he snorted, "You extraordinary man….." He clasped Kesh in his arms as he rolled them around, and peered down at Kesh, asking in a husky voice, "Mine?"

Kesh grinned widely as he responded, "Yours."

They both looked up as there was a knocking on the door.

"Hrishikesh…Hrishikesh, can I come in?" Uddhav's voice called out.

Kesh got up, and smiling sheepishly, started tucking his shirt back in adjusting himself, as he replied, "One minute, Uddhav."

"I'll wait downstairs for you. Vedant and I have been waiting. We have to go to Meera's father's house to invite him, remember. Bye, Sherlock," he yelled out cheerfully through the closed door, as he left.

"He's going to be totally frazzled by the time the wedding is over," remarked Kesh. "Sherlock, I've to go to Madhav's house to invite him to come. I hope he is over his anger. Do you want to come with us?"

"No, I would prefer to stay in, if that's okay. Actually, I wanted to catch up with the reading material from your research, you said it would be fine."

"All the hard copies are on the desk in my office. But a lot of the material is on my laptop, it's not password protected, so that'll be fine," answered Kesh, tying his shoelaces.

As he straightened, Sherlock came up behind him and put his arms around his waist, whispering in his ear, "I'll be here waiting. When you get back, we can revisit our conversation, about _anal sex_," he drawled as he playfully bit his ear. Kesh sank back into him with a shiver and said, "Yes…. Yes, please, Sherlock."

* * *

><p>Kesh walked onto the terrace, to find Sherlock standing near the balustrades, staring at the river, lost in thought. He watched the still figure, hair fluttering in the wind, slim graceful body leaning over the balustrade.<p>

"Kesh," rumbled Sherlock without turning his face.

"I thought you didn't know I was here," confessed Kesh, walking towards him.

Sherlock turned to face him, "You have been standing there, staring at me for 129 seconds. I have keen hearing, Kesh," he said smiling, as he pulled Kesh in his arms. "How did things go with Madhav?"

"He is very happy. He will come for the wedding. I told him to come home, see his daughter, and participate fully," answered Kesh snuggling into Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock led him to the sofa divan and settled down, pulling Kesh close, so that he was lying across his chest. "What were you thinking about, looking out at the river?" asked Kesh, as Sherlock stroked his hair tenderly and bent down to kiss him.

"I read your research papers. It's all quite extraordinary, isn't it, Kesh?"

Kesh sat up and said, "It is. It amazes me, all the time."

Sherlock leaned back on the back rest, upturned head facing the night sky and sighed, "How is all this possible? What is this? What does it all mean?"

"I don't know either," said Kesh shrugging his shoulders, "But sometimes, being able to ask the questions in itself is exciting."

Sherlock turned to him, as he said, "So your group thinks it is a sterile neutrino?"

"Seems plausible, at least the lack of mass is not a problem, unlike the electron neutrino. We are testing it. Others are testing different things. I was into gravitational lensing for a while, then moved to particle research."

"No one knows, it is like a mystery…only better, because whether you deduce it or not, the fascination still remains, the beauty still captivates."

"I went through your books in the study. The number of science books, on quantum physics, cosmology are roughly equal to the amount of ancient texts from various faiths," said Sherlock lifting his head to look at Kesh, "I find it hard to imagine. How do you reconcile the two. Being a scientist and a spiritual person. I am a scientist. I believe in quantifiable objective data, on the evidence of my eyes. Spirituality seems to me to be abstract, a matter of discussion and debate, with no grounding in real life."

Kesh sat up as he said, "I used to think so too. When I was young, when I had not given it much thought. The more I studied both the more I realized, that they are two different ways of seeing the same truth, the same realities in two different ways. They are both saying exactly the same thing."

"Science moves from the outwards to the inwards. From diversity to unity. From quantifiable facts, to the understanding of the underlying, breathtaking symmetry and order in nature, towards the understanding of one overarching theory of everything. Spirituality moves from the inwards to the outwards. From subjective experience to the manifest creation. From the understanding of a core, a center radiating out to include everything."

"They are just two different viewpoints of seeing the same truth. There is a saying in ancient Sanskrit, _Truth is one, wise people state it in different ways_."

Sherlock frowned as he said, "What does it mean for an agnostic like me though, Kesh?"

"Agnosticism, undecided on an underlying reality or truth. Or Atheist, not believing in God. Both are also valid faiths aren't they, Sherlock? Both are one's own personal judgements on the state of things. And both or I should say all are perfectly fine. The human brain is meant to think, analyse, dissect. If it is doing that, the purpose is served, whatever the conclusions one may draw."

Sherlock looked up at the night sky, as he murmured thoughtfully, "I look at the stars sometimes, wonder about what the real extent of the cosmos is. Every few years, they discover that it is bigger than their previous estimates, older than they previously thought. Are we are an accident, or a design by some creator. Why we are here? Is there a reason?"

"I don't know the answer to that, Sherlock. That is why, after all my study, I decided to pursue that which made the most sense to my immediate life. Don't get me wrong, I have read all the anthropomorphic arguments, the entomological arguments, the cosmological arguments…and reflected deeply on them. But ultimately it is a matter of intellectual debate. As flimsy and as easily overturned as one's opinions."

"I found it more useful to think about myself. Whether a creator, or God exists or not, no one can argue with me about whether _I _exist. If I exist, I am my reality. I found by the practice of meditation of tapping into something bigger than myself, right inside of me. That is my reality. When I am centered in it, it upholds me, guides me, I am happy. After all, underlying all the running around in life, that is the ultimate goal isn't it, to be happy?"

"Kesh, is it a void, when you reach closer to the center?"

"On the contrary, it is a fullness. How can it be a void, a nothingness, Sherlock? _You_ are still there. Even if it is a void, there needs to be something to _witness_ it. That is what you are. At the essence of everything, that is what we all are. Witnesses to our life, this vast creation."

After a long pause, Sherlock waved at the sky, as he said, "So 65% dark energy?"

"Yes, amazing isn't it? By the latest research 65% dark energy, 30 % dark matter. Everything that we see, all the matter in the universe accounts for the remaining 5% only. Dark matter, matter that is hidden from us, only seen in its effects, dark energy that cannot be detected, _that_ 95% is accelerating the universe outwards, that is why there is no big crunch coming as a logical end to the big bang….."

Sherlock's eyes widened as he looked up and said in a hushed whisper, "I love it, Kesh. Love this mystery. This unsolvable fact of exquisite science and pure mathematics…there is something out there driving this cosmos…. _Pervading_ the universe…..something undetectable, unidentifiable…that is just known by its effects….it appears, that if God exists, his language is silence."

"Or perhaps," suggested Kesh, "if an ultimate Reality, a Truth exists, it talks, we just need to adjust our frequency and wavelength to it, like trying to get a proper radio signal?"

Both friends rested in quiet contemplation for a while.

"I have been thinking, Kesh. I think….one needs to learn to live with ambiguity when one is a seeking spirit," Sherlock said after a while.

"I agree. All those who genuinely seek to learn, whether atheist or believer, scientist or mystic, are united in not have _a_ faith but faith itself."

They were still talking an hour later, oblivious to the loud chatter and laughter from downstairs, when Haridas came to call them for dinner.

As Kesh got up to leave, Sherlock grasped his arm to stop him. He stood facing Kesh, holding his face in both his hands and bent down to press their lips together, as he said in a husky voice, "It was here, that I first touched you, that I first asked if I could have you, Kesh. Will you let me have you tonight?"

Kesh smiled, without trepidation, voice quavering with love and trust, he repeated his previous words, "It would be my honour, Sherlock."

* * *

><p>Sherlock bent down to plant soft kisses on Kesh's hip, as he murmured, "Shh….relax, just give it a few seconds…" as he eased his third finger in slowly.<p>

"Sherlock…." Kesh gasped, eyes fixed on Sherlock, seeking reassurance, hand digging into his shoulder.

"I've got you, Kesh…..I know it feels like a lot, but….I am bigger than just two fingers, just let me prepare you, okay?" Making a cone of the three fingers, he waited, as he carefully watched Kesh's face from between his legs. He had taken a long time, carefully preparing Kesh, trying to be as gentle as he could, using liberal amounts of lube, which glistened all around Kesh's ass and had dripped into the bed sheets underneath. He watched Kesh gulp, and then give a small nod, as he pleaded, "Sherlock, please…."

Sherlock slowly stretched his fingers, to relax the sphincter some more, before plunging them back in, to caress his prostate, twisting as he withdrew, to plunge back in. "Sherlock, Oh God, feels so good when you touch me there…..Sherlock….please come here, please Sherlock…"

Sherlock slid up, gently kissing Kesh's belly and chest, as he moved to Kesh's perspiring face, "My Kesh….you're so tight, it's going to feel like heaven sliding into you, my Kesh," as he planted soft kisses to parted, panting lips. He buried his face in Kesh's neck and moaned, as his hands flexed and moved. "Going to have you soon, Kesh…..I think I'm going to come just from the thought of it," as he rubbed his straining hardness on the mattress.

Kesh nuzzled his face, as a trembling hand caressed Sherlock's hair, "I can't wait for it either," he gasped, as Sherlock's grazes to his prostate became more insistent, "I feel so full…so full of you."

Sherlock lifted his face, as he scanned Kesh's desperate look. Gently removing his fingers, he rolled off Kesh, as he lied down and said, voice hoarse in anticipation, "Come here, Kesh, on top, you'll have better control." Kesh shook his head, as he pulled Sherlock back, "No, no…..you on top, I want you above me, in me, around me, everywhere…. please, Sherlock..please," he begged.

Sherlock gently rolled back over Kesh, and cupped his face and kissed, tongue exploring, licking, claiming, "Okay…okay." They frotted as they kissed, erections rubbing, slick lube everywhere, panting into each other's mouths as their hands roamed, grasping, kneading, caressing.

"Alright?" Sherlock murmured, as he lifted himself on his knees, Kesh's twitching thighs spread wide around him. Slicking his hand with more lube, he stroked himself, eyes flitting between Kesh's stretched opening and his needy, trusting eyes.

_I hope I don't hurt him…..It's going to feel spectacular…..my Kesh, offering himself up so completely…..going to make it good, for him, Oh Kesh…..his first time….all mine….._

He fixed his eyes to Kesh's as he asked quietly, "Alright, Kesh?" Kesh nodded, pupils fully dilated, breathing in shallow gasps of anticipation, as he gave a small nervous smile, "Alright…..please, Sherlock."

Sherlock aligned his cock with one hand, as with the other, he flexed Kesh's hip, tilting it up. At the first nudge of the tip to Kesh's entrance, both their breaths hitched, Sherlock looking down and watching his thick head part the sphincter and dip in. He looked up to check for any pain or distress on Kesh's face, and was met with a gaze filled with stupefaction and awe. "Is this okay, Kesh, am I hurting you?" he asked anxiously. Kesh shook his head, and managed to gasp out, "No…feels a lot bigger, it's stretching me, but no pain."

Sherlock rocked in gently, brow furrowed in concentration, gaze darting from Kesh's face, looking for discomfort to his length sliding in slowly as Kesh unbelievably stretched to accommodate him. Once fully sheathed, he let go of his breath all at once, as he finally let out a loud moan, "Oh God, Kesh….," and held his hips still, as they stared at each other.

Sherlock stared in wonder.

_Have fucked so many….why does this feel so different…..tight, hot, so arousing that I am taking a virgin….but that's not it….something different…..look at him, he looks like he would worship me if he could…..so much love….my Kesh….mine…..why does feel different…..why do I feel I want to cry…loves me so unconditionally…has handed himself over…..my lovely loving Kesh…_

Kesh stared in veneration.

_Sherlock….oh God, Sherlock is inside me…so full…..full of his flesh, full of joy, full of Sherlock…this is so intimate…..I never knew it could be like this….feels so good, like I am complete now…..love him, love him so much…the most beautiful, brilliant, perfect man in the world…and he has chosen to share this with me….I hope it pleases him…want to please him…want to be here, in this position, joined, connected always…._

Sherlock bent forward and braced himself on both forearms, face close to Kesh's, as he licked the tears spilling from his eyes, soft kisses to his swollen lips, his nose.

"Look at me, Kesh….stay with me…tell me you're okay, not in pain?"he murmured finally.

Kesh looked back in wonder, and said with a reverent whisper, "Sherlock, you're inside me. I can feel you everywhere."

"Yes, I am….my Kesh, you feel as good, as I had imagined," he whispered, "Kesh, I'm going to move now, okay?"

"Okay," came the breathless response.

And Sherlock moved. Withdrawing gently, he slid back in slowly, long slow purposeful strokes, Kesh's body caged underneath his, Kesh's gasping breaths on his face, his eyes locked in with Kesh's with a burning intensity, Kesh's stream of moans and "Sherlock…Oh God, just there, right there… Sherlock" reverberating in his ears, as he took, took what was his, offered so freely and lovingly…..he took and took, as he savoured in equal measures the hot tightness and the love and awe spilling from Kesh's eyes. His abs rippled and undulated, brushing against Kesh's hardness, as he nudged and caressed Kesh's prostate, rewarded with broken needy pleas of "Please…. Please…. please Sherlock….." He kissed Kesh's parted lips, as his hands slid down to cup his ass, pulling him closer, pushing Sherlock deeper. He hummed into Kesh's ears, "Mine….my Kesh….that's it, move like that…..can you feel it, feels good doesn't it? That's it wrap your legs around me, Kesh...all mine." He nipped and bit and licked, as he snaked one hand between them to wrap his hand's around Kesh's length and stroked, Kesh's broken sobs sounding like music to his ears, "Love you, love you Sherlock…..I can't take this….please I need to come…..so intense, so intense Sherlock…"

He played, with Kesh's body, like a master at his peak, creating his masterpiece; he played with his own drowning, overwhelmed body and mind, unable to understand the sheer potent mix of fierce protectiveness and uncontrollable passion.

He sat up, heart thudding loud in his chest, hair plastered around his forehead with sweat, limbs trembling from effort and need, his beautiful eyes held Kesh's as if both were spell bound, as he fucked and stroked, and both gasped and moaned.

As Kesh spilled over, he moved the come stained hand to his face, and licked before grabbing both thighs and tilting him even more, as he drove in with a few brutal desperate thrusts, and then he stopped breathing as from his pelvis, deep throbs of pleasure erupted, and he climaxed inside his Kesh, a hoarse, violent roar wrenched from his parched throat.

He stayed locked in a post coital haze, head thrown back, body shuddering, deep gasping breaths shaking his whole chest. It was a while before he felt the moistness on his face, tears streaming….._why am I crying? What's wrong with me?_

He gulped as he straightened his head to look down at the man who had just given him his all, and they stared at each other, trying and failing to return to a semblance of lucidity. Kesh looked back in stunned euphoria,….. lips still parted, as his moist eyes begged Sherlock closer. Sherlock slipped out of him, as he lowered and buried his tear stained face in the crook of Kesh's neck, and let himself shudder and tremble, safe in the knowledge, that he was loved, he was safe, not quite sure who it was that took, and who got taken, lips repeating a soft mantra of , "Kesh, my Kesh…."

. Kesh's fingers gently cradled Sherlock close, as he repeated, over and over, "I love you, Sherlock, love you so much…..thank you, I never knew it could be like this….love you….it's okay, I've got you…."

* * *

><p>Two hours later, in the silence of the night, the friends lay, facing each other, freshly showered and changed, as they held hands, and talked and smiled, and nuzzled, legs tangled, voices hushed.<p>

"You know, Sherlock, things are going to get chaotic from tomorrow….lots of people around, lots of noise. Will you be alright with that? The wedding is in three days. I will be busy with Uddhav, he is a very close friend, and Meera, well, if her father does not agree to give her away, it will be me. It is a big responsibility."

"Don't worry about me, Kesh. I have decided, if you can't fight them, join them," said Sherlock with a smile. "I'm going to enjoy myself, and go with the flow for once, instead of trying to control things."

"You'll enjoy it, I know you will."

To be continued….


	12. Saubhagya-Good fortune

A very self indulgent chapter, with no redeeming quality whatsoever…

Because I wanted to take Sherlock Holmes to an Indian wedding…..

* * *

><p>"Kesh, why is Meera yellow?"<p>

Sherlock asked the question, voice curious, eyes widened, as he tried to take in all the activity going around him. He was the most observant man he knew of, (_well except for Mycroft) _, but he had found even himself struggling to absorb the sheer lunacy that was being perpetrated all around his person.

It was the night before the wedding. A sea of humanity was everywhere. There were people constantly eating, people playing an assorted number of Indian musical instruments, while colorfully dressed women sang and danced, bangles and bracelets clanging in rhythm with the music. Groups of men seemed to have invaded every nook and cranny, the driveway, the backyard, the living room, the terraces, there was scarcely a place to sit.

Around lunch time, some men had wandered to the second floor seeking a quiet place to perch themselves. Sherlock had closed his bedroom door pointedly with a forbidding unsmiling face, till they disappeared down again. Haridas was summoned and told by Sherlock in no uncertain terms, that he would _not_ like people using his room as a lounge area.

The kitchen and the back yard where the caterers were trying mightily to cope with the influx, were filled with women of all descriptions, wearing beautiful, brightly colored saris and salwars that shimmered in the light with shining beads, mirrors and gold and silver thread embroidery, giggling and gossiping as their busy, efficient hands seemed to create and distribute sumptuous smelling food effortlessly, almost absently.

The men had been evicted earlier out of the living room, as some sort of ceremony was about to commence. Meera, dressed in a plain nylon red sari with white, green and yellow polka dots was made to sit on a low wooden stool, as women gathered around her with steel and copper plates, flowers and incense sticks.

When they were let back in, Meera posed demurely for photographs, even as her girlfriends laughed about how beautiful she would look the next day, how her husband was going to enjoy _being_ with her.

"Well," replied Kesh, "the day before the wedding, it is traditional to put turmeric paste on the bride and groom's bodies, to bring out their fairness and make them look beautiful for their wedding day." He smiled, standing next to a restless Sherlock, hands clasped behind his back, like a caged lion who did not have enough space to pace around.

_Look at him, this is so much fun. I bet we all look demented to him….isn't it wonderful to see this through his eyes…..his eyes…. Are there more beautiful eyes in this world…how? It is not possible…_

He was brought out of his reverie by Sherlock's incredulous voice, "They _want_ to look fair? Do you know how much Caucasians spend every year, trying to go on holiday or saloons to turn dark and tan themselves?"

"What can I say, Sherlock?" Kesh smiled, "It is human nature to crave what we don't have!"

"Look," he said, pointing at the young women who gathered to sit down in a circle, Meera in the centre, "they are now about to put henna on their hands and feet. This is traditional as well. _Mehndi_ is also called henna, it is a beautiful temporary reddish brown tattoo. It is said, that the more the love, the darker the color will turn out."

Sherlock bent his head towards Kesh's ears, ostensibly to whisper over the loud background chatter, "In that case, henna on your hands would be a black color, isn't it, my Kesh?" He thoroughly enjoyed the shy smile Kesh gave as he averted his eyes.

_Oh, I plan to enjoy this. He thinks he can laugh at me and make me uncomfortable. Well, two can play this game._

"Namaste, Sherlock sir, Hrishikesh bhaiyya," Vedant's ever excitable voice called out, as he strode towards them, with a lovely young woman, hair covered with her sari and a boy of about five years. "Sherlock sir, let me introduce you to my wife, Sonali. And this is my son, Vinod," he said, pushing the child gently towards Sherlock. "My wife is a very good cook, Sherlock sir, if you ever want to eat anything, you can tell me. I will get her to make it for you and bring a container from home."

As always, Sherlock found himself grinning when confronted by Vedant, and said gravely, "Vedant if I eat anymore than I already am, I will possibly burst. Thank you for the offer," as he nodded at Sonali and shook hands with Vinod. Vinod looked at him open mouthed, eyes rounded as he hesitantly held Sherlock's hand and touched it. Kesh laughed aloud, eyes sparkling , "Sherlock, he is probably wondering who this alien is?" Sherlock smiled agreeably as he ruffled the child's hair, he bent down conspirationally and whispered, "Its real skin!" Vinod grinned at that, and ran to hide behind his mother's sari, suddenly shy.

"Sherlock sir, Partha, Shankar, everyone has brought their family. We are all sitting outside in the backyard, to let the big people use the house. Everyone is really eager to meet you. Please sir, can you come outside so our wives and children can also see you?"

"Gape at me you mean," muttered Sherlock under his breath, as he gave a rueful smile.

"Sherlock sir, you know, Kesh bhaiyya thinks I know you best of all, so I am supposed to look after you, when he is busy at the wedding tomorrow," Vedant declared, chest puffed with importance.

"Wonderful," said Sherlock walking behind Vedant, as he rolled his eyes.

* * *

><p>A soft knock on the door, sounded as Kesh and Sherlock readied themselves for bed, well after midnight. Sherlock was already in bed, covered with a duvet, talking as Kesh tidied his desk. The house had gone silent momentarily, guests gone. They exchanged glances, as Kesh walked to the door and opened it.<p>

Meera stood outside, still draped in her sari, mehndi up to her elbows, smelling strongly of fragrant eucalyptus oil applied over the dried mehndi.

"Can I come in, bhaiyya?" she asked in a soft voice.

"Of course, Meera. Is everything alright?" Kesh said, as Meera came into the bedroom, and stood next to the desk, facing Kesh. Sherlock asked gently, "Would you like me to leave, Meera?"

"No, Sherlock sir, I promise I won't be long, sorry for disturbing both of you," replied Meera, as Kesh gestured for her to take a seat, as he sat on the bed. Meera shook her head, and said, "Bhaiyya, I just came to tell you that I spoke to father again today. He reaffirms that he wants you to give me away tomorrow. He says he has other daughters. But you have been a true brother to me. You must give me away."

"And what about you, Meera? What do you want," Kesh asked kindly.

Meera kneeled down in front of the seated Kesh. She lifted her henna filled hands up as if to show him, and said in a emotional voice, "Bhaiyya, if it had not been for you, I would now be pregnant with the child of a fifty year old man. You saved me. You kept me in your house with honour and dignity. You see this mehndi, bhaiyya? A man like Uddhav, a good man, who has the privilege of being your friend, is marrying me tomorrow. Everything good in my life because of you. I cannot think of a greater blessing than you giving me away."

Kesh smiled as he stood up, "Meera you are a good girl. And I am very sure Uddhav and you will be very happy together. I would be delighted to give you away tomorrow."

* * *

><p>The morning of the wedding dawned early and bright. People started trickling in early, as Sherlock and Kesh got ready. Kesh had explained to him, that first they will be leaving for the wedding hall, where after getting ready, Meera and all those on the bride's side would wait for the groom and his guests to arrive in a traditional group called <em>baraat<em>. There would be much dancing and music. Following this would be the wedding ceremony. Then a grand dinner and reception for all the guests. Throughout the day the bride and groom would be busy with one ritual after another.

"Sherlock, meet Pujariji," said Kesh, as he ushered an old man, wearing a white dhoti and kurta with a long red tilak on his forehead, and _rudraksh_ mala ( a necklace of rudraksh beads) in his neck. He nodded at Sherlock and smiled, as Kesh continued, "Pujariji will be the priest officiating all the ceremonies today."

As they were talking in the driveway, a group of women came out, Meera in the centre, still wearing the nylon sari from the previous day. Pujariji moved towards her, and started another ritual, chanting in Sanskrit, as Meera was made to put her hands first in turmeric paste and then in sindoor paste ( red colored paste) and touched her hands to the outside walls of the house, leaving her palm prints.

Kesh explained, "She is leaving her mark on the house that she is leaving for the last time," even as Meera started crying. Women around her were also shedding tears, as they held and consoled her.

"Why is she crying? Isn't she happy, she is getting married?" asked Sherlock watching incredulously.

Kesh shrugged his shoulders, "It is an emotional transition. The daughter of the house is leaving the protection of her family. She will be living in a new house, with new family members, the future is unknown. She has spent her life in this house, her childhood, her young adult years. We Indians are emotional people, Sherlock," he said turning to Sherlock and flashing his dimples, "We are just waiting for an occasion to have a good cry," He laughed, as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Come Sherlock, we will accompany her to the wedding hall, and welcome the baraat, and come back later to get dressed for the reception."

* * *

><p>The sounds of loud music and bursting firecrackers pierced the skies, as the procession of both the grooms made it's way to the wedding hall. The fireworks made a vivid display, and the sounds competed with the beat music supplied by a wedding band which was in front.<p>

Traffic was trying to crawl from the sides of the road, as the baraatis, the friends and family of Uddhav and Shashank, Radha's groom, danced and laughed. Behind the dancing folk were two white horses, colorfully decorated with feathers and red robes. On one horse, wearing a white and red Sherwani, face covered with hanging flowers sat Uddhav. On another was Shashank.

The horses slowly made their way to the entrance of the wedding hall. Periodically they had to stop, because the baraatis were dancing in a frenzy.

Sherlock, Kesh, Haridas and others were standing at the entrance to welcome the baraatis. Uddhav's mother and some family members were alongside, to welcome Shashank, her son-in-law and his family.

"It is traditional to welcome the groom's side with humility and love," shouted Kesh, as he watched Sherlock's eyes darting everywhere, taking in the bright beautiful clothes and ostentatious jewellery, the uninhibited dancing and laughter, the friendly jostling and teasing. "We belong to the girl's side, so we will have to be very respectful and welcoming," he nugged Sherlock around his waist, and laughed at Sherlock's shocked expression.

Both friends were wearing silk kurtas, Kesh in the traditional cream and red, while Sherlock was in a peridot kurta, having decided to dress formally later for the reception.

Uddhav and Shashank dismounted at the gate, Pujariji came forward for another ritual, as Kesh stood humbly in namaste, welcoming the guests.

Sherlock restricted himself to dipping his head slightly, as everyone who came in stared in obvious interest, and then hastily looked away.

"And the wedding has not even started," muttered Sherlock, as he watched the entire congregation walk inside.

* * *

><p>The <em>mandap<em>, the platform where the marriage was to be performed, was bravely holding up, as the marriage ceremony got underway. Radha and Meera both dressed in exquisite red, cream and golden saris, jewellery adorning their graceful necks and hands, the mehndi a dark dramatic red brown, sat demurely on wooden stools. Alongside them sat their grooms, trying to look nonchalant and in control. Relatives surrounded them. Pujariji was chanting Sanskrit mantras.

Sherlock stood in a corner and watched, a faithful Vedant by his side, looking chuffed to be in his delegated role as companion to "the pale man from foreign".

Kesh was on the mandap, sitting across Meera and Uddhav, as the Pujariji chanted, washing Uddhav's feet with sacrimonial water, tying colourful thread around both their hands as the Pujari instructed.

"Kesh bhaiyya is going to give her away. It is a big blessing both for him and Meera," explained Vedant. "Now they will exchange garlands," he continued as the bride and groom put huge garlands of flowers in each other's necks, to loud cheers from the crowd. A similar ceremony was being carried on alongside with Radha and Shashank.

Bride and groom were next made to walk around a central fire, taking oaths of marriage, as the Pujari kept chanting.

"Normally it is less chaotic, but two weddings together, and both related to each other, it is a bit difficult."

Uddhav now put a gold necklace laced with black beads around Meera's neck. Meera looked emotional as she glanced at Kesh, before bowing her head. Kesh too had tears in his eyes.

"This necklace is called the _mangal sutra_. It is a significator of a married woman. Once her husband passes away, she cannot wear it anymore."

Uddhav extended his hand to put _sindoor_, a bright red powder, into the parting in Meera's hair. Tears spilt from Meera's eyes, as she inclined her head.

"Why is she crying again, Vedant?" Sherlock asked curiously. "Because, the sindoor is the most important signal of marriage. She is now Uddhav's, no longer her father's or Kesh bhaiyya's. They have no more right over her," replied Vedant.

"Oh for God's sake! I understand the rituals, but she must have cried and then laughed in succession a dozen times since yesterday. Where I come from, they would certify her as mentally unsound, surely"

Vedant shrugged his shoulders as he opened his mouth, and both Sherlock and he ended up chorusing at the same time, "_It is traditional_." They laughed at the coincidence and insanity together.

_Hey, he is not bad. He understands our jokes. Maybe from foreign, but he is alright. _

Vedant grinned, as he said, "Well the formal marriage ceremony is over, now both brides and grooms will take the blessings of the elders," as he motioned towards them.

The two newly married couples were taking the blessings of first the Pujariji, then the parents. They then walked up to Kesh. Shashank did namaste to Kesh first. Then Uddhav walked up to him, and bent down to touch his feet with his hands, even as Kesh bent down to pick him up and embraced him warmly. Both friends looked at each other and laughed in joy, as Uddhav said, "Now I am formally related to you, Hrishikesh. We are brothers- in-law."

Then Radha and Meera came forward, looking beautiful and modest. Radha touched Kesh's feet with her hands as well, Meera on the other hand, went down on her knees and touched her head to the ground in front of Kesh's feet. An emotional Kesh whispered, "_Saubhagyavati Bhava_, Meera," (May you have good fortune) as he extended one hand and placed it on Meera's saree covered head.

"_Not a single dry eye in the crowd,_" thought Sherlock as he cleared his throat unobtrusively.

"It is a great fortune, Sherlock sir, to be able to get the blessings of someone as great as Hrishikesh bhaiyya. When someone like him puts his hand on your head in protection, you are truly looked after," said Vedant in an unusually somber voice, watching the scene with his palms folded in namaste.

Sherlock watched Kesh, as he picked Meera up gently, and wiped her tears with his fingers. He cracked some joke, and everyone laughed.

_My Kesh, look at you…..who are you?_

After some time, Kesh jumped down the mandup and walked towards Sherlock, beaming broadly, "Everything went well, Sherlock," he said, clasping Sherlock's arm in jubilation. "Now we just have one last job to do, then the rest of the day, we can enjoy the celebrations."

"What job?" asked Sherlock warily.

"We have to feed the groom's and his guests, of course," said Kesh, with an impish smile, as he watched Sherlock's expression, "We must coax and cajole them to eat more, serve sweet dishes, and generally make them feel welcome. And you, my friend are on the bride's side, so you too must do this task."

"Have you lost your mind, Kesh? I wouldn't have a clue about what to do," replied Sherlock, even as Kesh laughed, and dragged him by his arm to the dining area saying, "Come let me show you."

* * *

><p>The guests were sitting on chairs, behind long narrow tables, much like at school, except there were many long rows. In front of each were steel plates and bowls, laden with food. The chatter was incessant and rambunctious. Men wearing caterer's uniforms were moving around with different dishes, hot curries, pickles, salads, dals, sweet dishes, savoury snacks. They respectfully bent down, when people stopped them and topped up their plates.<p>

At the centre tables were the close families and the newly wedded couples. A busy photographer was bustling about taking photographs of Meera and Radha feeding their husbands, amid much laughter and teasing. The arrival of Kesh and Sherlock drew loud calls of welcome, as they walked up to the tables and Kesh talked and laughed. Sherlock smiled charmingly, and answered the occasional questions. By now, he knew most of Kesh's friends and they too had come to accept this new friend of Kesh.

"We must now go row by row, where the groom's family is sitting, and ask them to have some more food, some more sweets. If they refuse, you must try to force them to eat it. It is _tradition_, Sherlock, stop rolling your eyes," chided Kesh, as he dragged him to demonstrate what needed to be done.

He stopped in front of a group of ladies, and bent forwards towards one, even as he stopped a caterer. He held a laddoo ( an Indian sweet) in one hand and said sweetly, " Please have some more, please, we have worked so hard. Otherwise we will feel you did not like the food. For my sake, please have it."

The motherly woman, obligingly opened her mouth and accepted the laddoo, as she smiled and replied, "The food is delicious, all the preparations are wonderful, Hrishikesh."

Kesh turned to Sherlock and indicated he should imitate his actions. Sherlock looked around, everyone's eyes were on him. He gulped, completely out of his element, but then he noticed the naughty twinkle in Kesh's eyes, and narrowed his own in defiance. He picked up a laddoo and went to the young, beautiful woman, who was next in line.

Voice intentionally husky, he playfully said, "Please, have this, for _me, _it would make me _so_ happy." The woman's eyes became larger, even as she regrouped and gave Sherlock a come-hither look and grasped his wrist, bringing it to her mouth. Voice equally low-pitched, she purred, "If someone who looks as _divine_ as you, were to give me even _poison,_ I would have that too," as she bit into the laddoo and then shamelessly nipped the tip of his finger. Sherlock stared at her, startled, till he heard the good natured snorts and laughs all around, at his discomposure.

He laughed as well, and said, "Bloody hell! I need some air after _that_!" The laughter followed them, as they moved on.

* * *

><p>It was half six in the evening, as Kesh entered his bedroom. Hearing Sherlock moving around in the bathroom, he yelled out, "Sherlock, I have to go now, you get ready and come with Vedant when you are ready. The guests have started arriving. I have no Uddhav to assist me," so saying he walked into the bathroom.<p>

Sherlock stood in front of the wall to wall mirror behind the twin sinks, naked and shaving. He looked up as Kesh walked in and stopped mid movement. Pupils widened, he turned to face Kesh, who was dressed in a cream and gold Sherwani, red tight silk churidar bottoms and a matching red beautifully embroidered silk scarf, around his shoulders.

_My Kesh, how exquisite you look…..I forget how beautiful you are….your enticing smile…. Your dimples….your elegance…..your gorgeous brown eyes…My Kesh…mine…I would have him, right here, right now…..strip these lovely clothes off…..and take him….._

Kesh came to a halt as well, looking at Sherlock's naked body, gaze flitting from the stunning face to the sculpted body and lingering on the long, limp cock resting against a bed of tight black curls.

_Look how beautiful he looks…will I ever get used to seeing him….wish I could stay here…..how am I allowed to look at this, touch this…..I could stand here and look at him all day…..I have to go…..where do I have to go again?..._

Sherlock broke the silence, "You look ravishing, Kesh," as he stepped closer and tilted Kesh's head up with his hand under his chin, and smiled, "I think I'd like to ravish you."

Kesh replied, voice hoarse, "God must have taken such a long time to make you, used all his skills… I could look at you all day," as he ran his fingers over Sherlock's chest and down towards his groin. He touched his cock, gently running his fingers over the length, as he continued, "I want to kneel down, I want to take you in my mouth and give you pleasure" he confessed, as his body swayed towards Sherlock.

"Tonight, Kesh, now you have to go. I will join you at the reception." He forcefully turned Kesh around, and slapped his ass, as he said, "I promise, I will make your jaw hurt tonight. But for now, _Go._"

* * *

><p>The large air conditioned wedding hall, littered with chairs, was buzzing. Groups of people stood around, having conversations and laughing periodically. Everyone had changed for the reception, and dressed more formally. Men were mostly wearing suits, women had changed into saris or lehangas more sober in colour, made shiny by beads and stones and embroidery. Gold and diamond jewellery flashed everywhere.<p>

Fruit juices and cold beverages were being served along with hot savoury finger foods in dainty napkins.

Kesh stood amongst a large group of friends and their wives, laughing as funny jokes were told, and everyone kidded each other, comfortable with the familiarity of years of acquaintance.

Suddenly, everyone stopped speaking as one by one, their gaze was drawn to the entrance. Kesh noticed their expressions and turned around as well, to check what had entranced them.

Sherlock Holmes stood at the doorway, looking like a vision, paused for dramatic effect, before he chose to walk in with the gait of an imperious lion in the jungle.

He was wearing a knee length silk black Sherwani and churidar. The black color was embellished with a dramatic deep turquoise fabric at the stiff collar and at the wrists. The same fabric covered all the big round buttons running down its length in the centre. The collar sat snuggly against his fair, elegant long neck, the turquoise creating a dramatic contrast with his skin, magnifying and enhancing the exotic otherworldly beauty of his changeable blue-green-gray eyes and his fair translucent skin. The suit was fitted to his slender, elegant frame, enhancing the broad shoulders, the narrow waist, the curved behind. Thrown around his shoulders in careless elegance was a deep turquoise embroidered silk scarf. The effect was a combination of a distinguished formal bespoke suit, enhanced with traditional Indian design.

He walked in, acutely aware of the drop in conversational level, the gaping mouths, the eyes following him, and he enjoyed it. His eyes scanned the room, till they settled on his Kesh, standing with a morsel of food halfway to his mouth, staring at him unblinkingly with big round eyes. _Oh Kesh, so hopeless at pretense..…._

He walked up to the group and graciously greeted all of Kesh's friends, before saying, "Please excuse us, I need to talk to Kesh about something."

He pulled Kesh to the side, and smirked with amusement, "Kesh….you look faint, are you alright? Take deep breaths, my Kesh."

Kesh looked at him, unable to keep the adoration out of his eyes, as he dutifully started breathing.

* * *

><p>"Oh Hello!" said a plump, middle aged woman in a green garish chiffon sari, decked with imitation diamond jewellery, as she sidled up to a lone Sherlock with a young, rather timid looking girl, wearing a pink lehanga choli. She wrapped her hand around Sherlock's forearm with familiarity, ignoring the haughty look.<p>

"You are Hrishikesh's friend, yes? My name is Mrs Mathur. This is my daughter, Leena. We are so pleased to meet you!" she said moving closer and gazing up at him. "I hear you are from London. Must be a wonderful city. Anywhere that is foreign is better than India, I always say! I want to send Leena to foreign as well, " she continued, pulling Leena closer. "She is a very good cook, she has studied till year 12. It is considered a big thing for a girl to study this much," she gushed.

Sherlock looked at her with wry amusement, as she concluded with the question on her mind, "Are you married? Are you looking for a wife?"

"Oh there you are, Mrs Mathur!" said another voice, as another woman in her fifties, caught up to them, "I have been looking all over for you," she said, eyes only for Sherlock. "We haven't been introduced, my name is Mrs Khatri. So lovely to meet you. Friend of Hrishikesh I hear, from London….." Sherlock struggled to keep a straight face, chuckles threatening to erupt from his belly, as he caught Kesh's eye. Kesh was standing afar, orange juice in one hand, looking amusedly at the scene. They had a silent conversation with their eyes, Sherlock reassuring that he was fine, as Kesh left to mingle some more.

It was a few minutes later, that a worried looking Haridas crept up to Kesh, and pulled him to one side, "Hrishikesh, just look at them, now there are four women with their daughters, trying to chat up our Sherlock. You must do something. What if he decides to get married to one of them?"

Kesh laughed, as he bent low and whispered, "But Haridas, you just said he is _our _Sherlock. How can he elope with another?"

* * *

><p>The congregation stood crowded around the entrance, as both brides clung to their family members and cried. The grooms looked guilty and striken, as everyone hugged Meera and Radha and burst into tears.<p>

Vedant stood, tears streaming down his pudgy faces, as he explained to Sherlock, "This is the last ritual, Sherlock sir. It is called _Bidai_, where the bride is saying goodbye to her family for the last time," he sobbed. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he removed a handkerchief from his pocket, and handed it over to the distraught man, "And of course they are never going to meet again. And of course, that is why _you_ are crying?" he said with a chuckle.

"Laugh all you want, Sherlock sir, this is a very emotional time. You should see how much everyone cries in the movies," he said dabbing his eyes, looking at Sherlock accusingly.

Sherlock smiled good naturedly, as he watched, eyes locked on Kesh, watching …._his Kesh_.

* * *

><p>They stood out on the terrace. After the noise of the past four days, the house seemed eerily quiet. Kesh looked thoughtful as he looked out at the mountains. Sherlock came to stand behind him, and held his friend around the waist, as they both looked ahead. Kesh rested himself on Sherlock's chest. They were quiet for a long time, before Kesh said softly, "The house is so quiet. She won't be here tomorrow morning to feed you."<p>

Sherlock's deep voice rumbled through Kesh, "I know, Kesh."

Kesh turned around, and embraced his friend. "Take me to bed, Sherlock," he said quietly. Sherlock kissed his forehead and held him, "They'll be fine, Kesh. Let's go in, it is late."

Sherlock was gentle as he took Kesh in his arms that night, movements tender, unhurried as he grasped both their cocks together in one large palm and stroked them to completion, allowing Kesh to bury his face in his chest, as he held him close, whispering endearments, "My Kesh, you are so beautiful, my Kesh…."

* * *

><p>Sherlock bounded down the staircase, hair still wet from his shower. They had just finished their morning meditation session, and he was dying for a cup of hot chai tea.<p>

Kesh was in the kitchen with Haridas, sipping tea, as they discussed the wedding and how things had gone. Both smiled, as Haridas, ran forward to get Sherlock's tea and fussed over him.

"Haridas was just saying the house is a mess, he has so much to do," said Kesh still smiling.

"There is rubbish everywhere, it will take everything at least a week to come back to normal. I do have Partha and Shankar to help me. And Vedant's wife, Sonali is going to come and help with the cooking," explained Haridas. "Meera was looking so beautiful, wasn't she, Kesh?"

"I thought all the girls were looking beautiful, especially the ones who had _surrounded_ Sherlock during the reception. Which lucky one is to be your wife, Sherlock?" asked Kesh and then laughed at Sherlock's disdainful expression.

"Oh Sherlock, I forgot, you got a letter today in the mail," said Haridas, as he left the kitchen to fetch it.

Sherlock lifted his eyebrows at Kesh, who looked back, sudden alertness in his expressive eyes.

Haridas hurried back, and handed over an envelope to Sherlock, smiling. Kesh watched, as Sherlock's breath hitched, eyes narrowed, as he accepted the letter wordlessly after a heartbeat. He held the tattered envelope with light fingers, as he stared at the familiar neat, small handwriting, running his delicate fingers slowly over the post mark, the writing, jaw clenched.

It seemed like a long time; Sherlock stared at the envelope, Kesh watched Sherlock and Haridas looked at both of them, puzzled.

Abruptly, Sherlock stood up, cup of tea forgotten, as he said, voice hoarse, "Please excuse me," as he left the room, without a glance at Kesh. Rapid footsteps echoed as he climbed the stairs two at a time, and they heard his door slam shut.

After a beat, Haridas asked Kesh, voice filled with cautious worry, "Whose letter was that Kesh? Why is Sherlock upset?"

Kesh was quiet for a long time, as he stared fixedly at the still steaming cup of tea, lost in thought. Ultimately, he said, "My guess is it is from his hometown. From his friend, John," as he got up and left as well.

Haridas stood alone, watching the swinging door, concern writ large on his face, hands wringing the tea towel.

To be continued…

* * *

><p>Do consider leaving a commentmessage, if you have read this far and liked anything. It would help me to understand what it is about Moksha that is working and encourage me to keep writing.

Due to real life commitments, for the next 5-6 weeks, I will be able to update Moksha sporadically and perhaps not as frequently as I would like. I apologise in advance, and beg your indulgence.


	13. Saunshayahah-Doubt

It was half five in the afternoon, that Kesh ventured into Sherlock's room. Finding it empty, he went out on to the terrace, to find Sherlock lounging on the sofa divan, eyes unfocussed looking at the distant mountains, three crumpled pages held to his chest, with one hand, the other hand under his head.

He did not turn around when Kesh entered, only the blinking of his eyes and tightening of his hands on the paper, showing that he was aware of Kesh's presence.

Kesh came and sat down across Sherlock on another divan, cross legged, spine straight, face serene, as he set his eyes on Sherlock, silent.

Both friends were silent for a while.

Sherlock sat up after some time, and slid the papers across the coffee table towards Kesh. He also removed a few photographs from the envelope and passed them along. Kesh's gaze did not waver from Sherlock's face, as he waited patiently.

"It is a letter from John," said Sherlock, voice roughened from hours of disuse. "He has sent some photographs as well." Sherlock glanced up, to catch the slight inclination of Kesh's head and the bright alertness in his eyes, as he listened. "I will see the photographs later, Sherlock. Tell me," he said softly.

Sherlock looked at him, part of him framing what he had to say, part of him observing Kesh with narrowed eyes.

_You are centering yourself, Kesh. I always thought you were a good listener, I never realized why. It always felt like you listen with your entire being .Now that you have taught me the techniques, I can see that is because, you actually center yourself in your being, past all the other layers. How fast you do it, Kesh! I have to learn to do that within a couple of seconds the way you do it. _

Sherlock shrugged, "Not much to tell. He…..he is well. Both him and Mary and their daughter….Rosa…they are calling her Rosa. She looks beautiful in the photos. But then both John and Mary are good looking."

"He has started work at the clinic. Mary is still on leave. The baby, Rosa is doing well. He misses me, misses going on cases, having somewhere to go to, where life is exciting. A little dazed by the routine of life….work, baby, work, baby…he calls it. He says Lestrade is tearing his hair and waiting anxiously for me to come back. There have been some really intriguing cases in my absence. He gave details of some of the cases, and some unusual wounds that he saw, when he went to see Molly."

Sherlock took another deep breath, as he continued, "He went with Lestrade to see Mrs Hudson a month ago. She's…she's well. But she told them she feels lonely all by herself in that big house. Like I was gone all over again, as I have done previously… Finally he called Mycroft and got the address for your house from him," he gave an amused snort as he added, "John, does not like Mycroft. Thinks he is pompous, pretentious and has never forgiven him for what he thinks is a betrayal, talking to Moriarty about me."

Sherlock stood up, and paced to the edge of the terrace as he continued, "John….John is a bit _peeved _with me for leaving without informing him, is wondering where I am, and what the hell do I think I am doing." He looked out at the far distance and was quiet for a while longer.

Finally he turned around to face Kesh.

_Kesh….. I have spent almost every moment in the company of this man for the past two months….have shared with him my deepest fears, my despair, my anguish, my doubts…have shared with him, my body…in front of him I am naked, he sees me like no one else…..even with Mycroft I am able to maintain some barriers….with John, so many of them are up….my put on conceit at my intellect, my disdain for the world, my apparent eccentricities, which he enjoys getting angry with….. But Kesh, there is nothing I have ever concealed from him. He has seen me at my lowest, my most vulnerable. Even now, there is no need to hide….I can say what I have to and be understood. Kesh….._

Aloud, he said, "Kesh, I have spent all morning thinking." He took a deep breath, and continued.

"About London, about my Work, about John, about what I left behind when I came here. For a while it seems, I forgot my life. Being with you, spending time with you, learning from you," he gestured around at the house, the mountains, the surrounds as he continued, "I was happy. I felt fulfilled. But I have read and reread that letter, and I realize, that I cannot stay here forever. I cannot lead your life out here, attending funerals and weddings. This is not who I am. This is not where I belong."

He glanced at Kesh's impassive face and whispered aloud as his hands moved to emphasize his point, "Kesh, I am brilliant. I'm….I am _stunning_ at what I do. You should see me when I am working. The police call me, they first think of me, the moment they get anything even slightly out of the ordinary. They hold the crime scene for me, when I walk in I am able to command any line of inquiry I want, they listen to every word and follow my instructions, knowing that I will lead them to the truth. I have clients queuing up for my services and showering me with useless expensive gifts, I have reporters following me, asking me to make speeches."

He began to pace as he talked, arms waving, voice emphatic, as he tried to explain, "Even Moriarty, the greatest criminal mind of our generation, even he recognized my genius. Kesh, you should have seen it, we were flirting over corpses, he left no stone unturned to literally seduce me with games, so enamoured was he with me, so desperate for my attention. Irene Adler, formidable woman, clever woman, was besotted with me because of my phenomenal mind."

He paused in his pacing, to tell Kesh, "When I am confronted with a puzzle, my mind buzzes and seems to work at a million bits per second, like an amazing supercomputer, computing, analyzing, deducing….. it is the most thrilling part of my life, when I am the happiest, because I am lost in solving a mystery. And John…." Sherlock gave a fond chuckle, "John follows everywhere, faithfully taking notes, covering my back, writing up about my brilliance, my deductive skills, my escapades."

He got even more animated as he paced, "I did tell you that he keeps a blog. Of our unusual cases, about my extraordinary intellect. Sometimes he tries to humanize me, as if I were not quite human. But a superhero."

"Over there, in my element, in my city, doing what I do, that is who Sherlock Holmes is. Here I am your friend, I have no other identity. How can I live here forever?"

He stopped pacing and looked at Kesh as he walked towards him, body leaning, hands moving to make his point, imploring that Kesh understand. He sat on the coffee table, close to Kesh, to look closely at him, "I will have to go back. That is what I have been thinking all morning."

Kesh's eyes became even more alert, a look of understanding on his face, as he continued to observe and say nothing.

Sherlock leaned forward, to rest his elbows on his knees and looked down and was silent for a while, as he tried to organize in his mind what he had to say next.

He took another deep breath. "But then, I have also been thinking about you…..about us." He looked up, into the warm, brown eyes, "about what you have come to mean to me. About how much I mean to you. About how much you love me. About how much of yourself you have given to me, including your body, your virginity, out of that love. About how loved and treasured and safe I feel with you. How I don't have to think about the world when I am with you. All my pointless, repetitive thoughts, all my anguish, all usual sentiment gone, since I have come here. About what will happen to you if I leave."

He ran his fingers through his hair, and tugged, as he tried to convey his frustration.

"How…..how can I leave you? How will you handle it, losing me again, after everything that you have so selflessly done for me, given to me? What right do I have to enjoy you physically for my gratification, to use you for my healing emotionally and then leave? It would be wrong. It would be selfish. I have been happier here, with you, in your world, than I have been for a long time. Part of me wants to stay here with you, be happy, share your life," his voice got higher, the words faster as he spoke.

He stood up again to face the mountains. Hands clasped into fists, he bowed his head, as he took a few deep breaths. He turned around and walked to Kesh. Knelt down in front of his seated friend, to peer deeply into his eyes.

He whispered, voice miserable, brow furrowed, eyes confused, "I fear, Kesh. What if…what if I decide to go back and fall into the same wrong ways of thinking? You have taught me so much. Why would I jeopardize what I have and risk losing everything?" He pulled Kesh's hand into his own, brown masculine hand with tapering fingers into his own fair, delicate musician's hands.

"Please, Kesh. Please understand. Understand what I am saying. I do not want you to think, that I deceived you, used you. I care about you so much, but I don't know if staying here is an answer. Please…Kesh, tell me what you are thinking. I want…..I need….."

He broke off, as he looked at Kesh, green-gray eyes mute and pleading…

_Kesh, talk to me. Tell me I am a fool. I want the emotional part of you, Kesh…to tell me how much you love me, how much you don't want me to go. I want the intellect to argue, tell me all the logical reasons I should not go. I want the physical part of you, to sway towards me and look at me with hungry eyes, promising all fulfillment of all my desires, so that there is no reason to leave. Don't withdraw, Kesh. I have been happy here, part of me is afraid of going back. But logic tells me I should. Living here long term is not an option. I am also excited at the thought of going back, armed with all that you have taught me.I am a right bastard, Kesh. Get angry with me. Please say something, Kesh…_

Kesh looked at the kneeling Sherlock, at the intense, focused blue-gray eyes, at the conflict of two opposing ideas on his friend's face.

He observed for a few seconds, _himself_, to make sure that what he spoke came from his inner self, and not his emotional self, which had gone catatonic at the thought of life without Sherlock. It would _not do_, to bias his words with his own foolish desires. He watched his mind and his selfish thoughts, and resolutely pushed them aside. The need of the hour was to only consider what was right for Sherlock, for his friend. His needs and desires came a poor second.

He cupped Sherlock's face in both his hands, as he pulled him closer, and said gently, "Come here. Rest awhile, then we will talk," so saying, he cradled Sherlock's head, the skull that held that priceless, unmatched brain, to his chest, one palm across his cheek, gently kissed his forehead. Sherlock rested gratefully. He had carefully organized his thoughts all morning, into twin streams of London, the Work, everyone he had left behind on one hand and Kesh on the other. His thoughts slowed, and breathing got calmer, as he allowed the warmth and love of Kesh's hand steep into him. He was aware, that Kesh was thinking, would carefully consider his words, and only what was good for him would come out of his mouth. He rested.

After a few moments, Kesh gently pushed him away, and stood up. He walked up to the balustrades, and turned around, both hands in his trouser pockets, and looked at Sherlock, who sat up on the divan and waited.

"Sherlock, tell me, what did you come to find, out here, in India?"

Sherlock looked into the distance, as he considered his response. A heartbeat later, he turned his gaze to Kesh and said, "Inner peace….An end to sorrow…. Freedom from the tyranny of my mind, my sentiment….Freedom from my unrequited obsession with John and the resultant angst…..A search for something within me that I could fall back on…Rest, to take a rest from being Sherlock Holmes, and just be….."

Kesh nodded his head approvingly as he listened, and then asked, "Tell me, have you found all that you came for?"

Sherlock was silent as he thought. Eventually he said, "I will answer the easiest and most obvious first, Kesh," he looked up at Kesh. "I am no longer obsessed with John. I am not pining for him. I don't crave him or his company. I am of course still fond of him. He is a good man. He is my friend. I….. Kesh, I haven't even thought about touching him since we…since we became intimate."

"I do feel well rested, and ready to be Sherlock Holmes again. I do feel happy and peaceful…..but, there is something….something that tells me, that there may be something more I need to learn, something that makes this peace, this calmness more permanent, so that it can never leave again."

Kesh nodded, satisfied with the honest answers and the thinking that went into them.

"There were a few issues you raised, let me give you my responses to them. Mind you, these are just responses. It is you who has to reflect on everything, to come to the right decision. Sherlock, now that you know the techniques of approaching your Higher self, asking aid from it, _do it_. I implore you to not let your outer self make the decision for you."

He walked back and sat across Sherlock, and said quietly, "First, the issue about going back to London. Where you feel fulfilled, where you are in your element, where your intellect shines and you are able to put it to good use. The place, where Sherlock Holmes is resplendent as himself, not as a shadow of Kesh," he said without rancor.

"Of course you need to go back," Sherlock's head jerked up, as Kesh said the words matter of factly, the last thing he expected to hear. Kesh continued, "You came here to learn something, you have to go back to the real world, to your life to _apply_ it, till you are sure you are the master of yourself. Once you have done that, only then can you be totally free, only then you can fully know what greatness you are capable of. Only then, further down the tract you can decide, from the position of that complete freedom, that fullness, where and how you want to lead your life. So the only question for now, is whether you are ready to go back now or wait."

He watched Sherlock as he said, "Sherlock, one comes to the classroom, to study. One does not take up residence there. One comes to a retreat, to rest and recuperate. One does not start building houses there."

Sherlock looked gratefully on, as Kesh continued, "As for us, for me…. That should _never_ be a factor in your decision making. You have never deceived me. You have never pretended that you came here for me. You have never claimed to feel more for me, than you do. I am and will continue to always be your friend. I love you and as I said to you before, I will always love you. My love is not dependant on your location or your reciprocation. I was and will be alright, because no matter where you go I will always be with you in spirit."

"About the sex….taking my virginity...Sherlock, I have never loved anyone else before you. I do not think I can ever love anyone else. This body….," he gestured with both his hands at himself, "this inert body, made of flesh and bone is nothing. _I _belong to you, what to speak of this body. And tell me, Sherlock, _who else_ could have had my virginity, _who else_ could have taught me about sex? When Iam _yours_, where would I go to learn about these things? Please do not feel you have used me. You have not. You have only claimed that, which is rightfully _yours_, and will always be."

Sherlock looked at his friend, and marveled again, at the strength of character needed to say these words, he knew what it was costing Kesh. He knew how deep and true his love was. He knew without doubt, what he meant to Kesh. He watched, humbled.

Kesh continued, "I have warned you against attachment, Sherlock. It will always bring grief and confusion. I beg you, do not get attached to me. Do not remove your attachment to John Watson and let it grasp Hrishikesh Yadav now. I have told you previously, _Man's grasp is small, but his reach is not small. Stop grasping and you can reach the universe._"

For the very first time, since he had known Kesh, he looked stern….angry even, as eyes flashing, voice forceful, he scolded Sherlock, "After all that you have learnt, after all that you have practiced, how…_how _can you let yourself fall prey to wrong thinking again? When confusion strikes, go inwards, seek inwards. _All _answers come from within. When you are looking for answers outside of yourself, you are still playing at the fringes. You are not committed."

He stood up decisively, face grim and set as he pierced Sherlock with his eyes, and said, "I expect better from you. You are better, smarter, _greater_ than this. You are equipped to deal with this. I told you once before, it is easy to be wise when the questions are rhetorical and you are alone. There comes a time for application, Sherlock. Apply yourself. _Lift yourself, by yourself_. You have the capability_. All_ of us have it. Have faith in this, and lift yourself out of this confusion. Don't let your lower self, your body, your emotions, your debating intellect, pull you down, that is their job. Seek the Higher. Ask for guidance about when you should return. I will await your answer."

He gave a small nod, as he strode out of there, leaving a Sherlock lost in painful silence.

* * *

><p>Kesh was sitting in his study, a tattered, much used copy of the Bhagavad Gita in his hands, eyes narrowed in concentration, as he heard pounding, furious steps outside his door. He gently closed the book and put it aside and waited. He had anticipated this visit.<p>

Uddhav strode in, and stopped short at seeing Kesh looking at him. Jaw clenched, huge frown on his face, he looked at Kesh, chest heaving, and he said, "Haridas called me," by way of explanation.

Kesh observed mildly, "Haridas worries too much."

Ignoring Kesh, Uddhav paced as he hissed, "He said that Sherlock received a letter from John. That he has been secluded in his room all day. That you looked thoughtful and grim. What is going on? What is it now? Why can't things go right for you, just once? Is he leaving again?" his voice rose as his agitation spilt from every gesture.

Kesh said softly, "Uddhav, it is the first day of your marriage. Your place is by your wife's side. Not here, worrying about me. And to answer your question, yes, Sherlock will most likely leave and go back to London. When, I do not know. All will be well, trust me."

"Everything will be well?" Uddhav repeated incredulously. "What will be well? What, Kesh? He will leave again. He came here, wounded and vulnerable. _Twice_. Once physically, then emotionally. You bent over backwards, trying to heal him. You left no stone unturned. He _used_ you to fix himself, and now he might go again. Does he not realize how much he means to you? Does he not realize what his leaving will do to you? Do you not have any say in this? What gives him the right?"

Uddhav ranted, eyes glaring, as he continued to ignore the now stern look on Kesh's face, as his eyes followed the pacing Uddhav. _I have to say this. Someone has to look out for Kesh. He will always put Sherlock first. Sherlock is a bloody fool, does he not know what he has in his hands? The love of a great man. Bloody idiot. He may be the most brilliant man in the universe, but he is a fool of the first order._

He fumed, "How can he just waltz in here, whenever he needs you and then just think about leaving, when his needs are fulfilled?"

Kesh voice snapped through with the force of a slap, "Because I am his friend. Because this is his home. Where else will he go when he needs support, rest, shelter? He came for a visit, not to live here."

In a gentler tone, he continued, "I know you care about me deeply, Uddhav. But do not worry about me, I will be fine. Uddhav, he is a genius, the most amazing mind of this century. He is a consulting detective, his work helps so many. He is a force against crime, against evil. His work is important, it is necessary. It is what gives him joy. He came here for something, he is on the cusp of finding it. I am not concerned about him leaving, I look worried and grim to Haridas, because I _am_ worried about him leaving prematurely."

"Then tell him to stay," Uddhav said.

"I cannot. We have had this conversation previously, Uddhav. _He_ has to want to stay. _He_ has to want to heal completely. This is not about love and emotions. This is about being fully prepared when he leaves."

Uddhav wiped the angry tears rolling down his eyes, with a trembling hand as he said in a quieter voice, "Forgive me for raising my voice, Hrishikesh. I can't see things the way you do. I don't understand half of what you say. I am an ordinary man. You are my friend, my everything. I can't bear the thought of seeing you alone again. To see you so happy with Sherlock, and then think of seeing you alone, without a companion for the rest of your life. It is not like you will ever forget Sherlock and get married to someone, is it? How is this fair? You brought Meera into my life. What right do I have to that, and why should you not have the love of your life with you? You, who only knows how to give to everyone, what they want. Why can't you have what _you_ want for once in your life?"

"I like Sherlock a lot. He _is_ a great man. He is the one worthy of you. Part of me wants to go and shake him by the shoulder. Tell him how foolish he is….. Fall down to his feet and beg him to stay. I want to tell him, _Sherlock, I will be your slave for the rest of your life, I will serve you, please stay for Hrishikesh, he loves you so much_," he confessed.

Kesh smiled gently, as he walked up to the now subdued Uddhav, "You will do nothing of that sort, Uddhav. You will not talk to Sherlock right now, you will not influence his decision. I know you care about me. I am blessed to have a friend like you," he said as he embraced his friend warmly.

* * *

><p>The slim silver ghungroos ( musical anklets) chimed as Meera ran out into the front yard when she heard Uddhav's car drive in. She stopped short, on seeing Uddhav come out of the car, eyes anxiously searching his face. He looked at her and shook his head slightly, face morose, as he turned and walked into the house, then to their bedroom. He sat down at the edge of the bed, and gestured for Meera to close their bedroom door.<p>

She walked towards him cautiously, and stood in front of him. Uddhav sighed as he buried his face between his wife's breasts, resting in the warmth of her arms around him, breathing in her scent. He stayed still for a few moments, as Meera's arms tightened around her husband's shoulders, while she prayed silently for her brother.

Eventually, he leaned back, and said in a choked voice, "How is this fair, Meera? He united us, he brought us together. He just keeps _doing_, for everyone. How is he not allowed this happiness?" He sounded miserable, as he continued, "The greatest and best man that I know. How can Sherlock even _think_ of not being with him, leaving him? How can he not see how lucky he is?"

Meera silently sat on the bed, and pulled Uddhav closer to her, cradling his head on her chest, caressing his face, as he continued, "I feel so impotent. There is nothing I can do, nothing I can say to either Sherlock or Hrishikesh. Meera, you were not here when Sherlock left last time. Hrishikesh went quiet…..so quiet. It was a while, before he came back to himself. I never want to see that again, Meera. It is not like, once Sherlock leaves, he is going to find and marry someone, to have a companion for himself. He loves Sherlock, only Sherlock. I have never seen him even look at anyone, man or woman, the way he looks at Sherlock. Like his sun shines out of Sherlock's eyes. Like he cannot believe his luck. I have never seen anything like it."

He sighed against Meera's chest, as a few moments of quiet followed.

"Uddhav, can I ask you something that has been on my mind?" asked Meera hesitantly.

Uddhav lent up, to kiss her, soft kisses on her full lips, eyes on her beautiful face, marveling that she was his wife, as he pulled her sari down, and stared at her cleavage above her blouse. He traced it with a gentle finger and dipped his finger inside between her breasts. He could not believe, that he was allowed this, they had been _so_ intimate last night, their first time with anyone. "Of course, Meera, ask."

"Both of them are men. I have never seen this sort of thing between men before. It took a while for me to get used to the idea. Kesh bhaiyya is so masculine, so is Sherlock sir. But they sleep on the same bed. How can they love each other? How does that even work?" she asked.

Uddhav frowned as he considered, before saying, "I don't know about the physical part, Meera. I have never really thought about that. It is not my place. But you asked about love. I think, that men like Hrishikesh and Sherlock are so…evolved. They have such a subtle, higher intellect, they work from a higher vantage point…where you and I cannot even dream of reaching…..I cannot imagine that their minds would be so ordinary, as to identify with their body, or gender, or race or any of the usual labels we put on people." He shrugged, "Of course, this is just what I think. I don't know anything. All I want is to see them happy."

"Me too, Uddhav, me too…." said Meera quietly, as she held him.

* * *

><p>The haunting, sad, melodious strains of Sherlock's violin, pierced the night sky, from the second floor balcony. The sound carried, through the open French windows and fluttering curtains of Kesh's bedroom.<p>

Kesh sat on the bed, back resting against the headboard, knees bent and hugged close to his chest. His face rested against the tops of his folded arms, resting on his knees. Tears brimmed over and splashed one by one, on his arms, as he listened. He listened and allowed himself, this moment of weakness, of pain. The melody was so beautiful, he could imagine Sherlock in his pajamas and t-shirt and his blue silk robe, standing outside, beautiful eyes closed, graceful body swaying to his own music, playing, thinking.

He glanced at the empty bed, the empty room and felt that if he let go, he would be indeed swept away in his own tears.

_I am not enough….not enough for him. I failed…failed to be deserving of his love… failed to be enough…..he has to go back I know…..but he does not love me enough to even ask me to go with him….he is the most brilliant man I know, how could he even think, I would stifle his talent out here….but he made it clear, I am important, but not too much…..it hurts worse this time….having known him, spent so much time together…..having known the bliss of being in his arms…I don't know if I will ever feel it again…..I warned him against attachment, look at me…..it is so hard….I will work on this, remove this need….but for now, while he is here, let me grieve just for a few minutes…..let me be weak, and need him….I love him so much…..I wanted him to be mine too, just as I am his, his Kesh…there must be some flaw in me, something missing…..I am not enough…enough, Kesh….it has been a long day….you need to be ready to be Sherlock's friend tomorrow, to help, to assist, to guide….that is your main role…you wanted unity….perhaps that is not to be, perhaps the higher powers have something better in store for him….he is a great man…..stop this weakness….that is enough of that._

He sat there for a long time, listening, thinking, as the melody played on.

To be continued….

* * *

><p>Do consider leaving a comment if you have read this far, and liked anything.<p> 


	14. Abhyasa- Practice

The fluorescent green numbers on the clock at Sherlock's bedside table showed 3.50 am, when he climbed out of bed and stretched. Sleep had been sporadic and brief. He felt quite fresh though, and more to the point, he felt determined.

This is enough. This thinking, analyzing is getting me nowhere. Kesh said to seek within. I have never tried to meditate without his guiding hand, his mellifluous voice taking me deeper. But he believes I can do it. And so I will.

"_Sherlock, sitting in meditation, is like having a date with yourself, your real self. The being that you are. It is as exciting, and entrancing as a date with a loved one can be. The steps are few, and not that hard. The important thing is to practice,earnestly. Even if you do not meditate, it is important to lead a meditative life. To look inwards, to bend every incident towards self knowledge, use the world to learn lessons. You need to have a lifestyle conducive to meditation for meditation to work". _

"_The world is like a carnival, Sherlock. Ephemeral, impermanent and endlessly alluring. It is easy to get lost in it, to run around like a hamster on a wheel, running with all your might, and reaching nowhere! The world is made of rings." Kesh smiled wickedly as he continued, "But we forget…..forget that the hooks are all ours. Straighten your hooks and nothing can hold you."_

He walked out into the night. It was a still night, large moon overhead, some cloud cover, the silence was absolute. He walked to the divan, and pulled a flat mattress down, not too soft, not too hard, not too high, not too low. Just as Kesh had advised. As he adjusted the seat and then himself on it, his eidetic memory helpfully replayed Kesh's words.

"_We are made up of five layers or sheaths, Sherlock. The outermost sheath is the physical sheath. The inert matter that makes up the body. The most superficial and gross sheath. Pleasures experienced here are literally momentary. Eating tasty food, listening to pleasant music, watching something beautiful, having an orgasm. Once the stimulus is gone, so is the pleasure."_

Sherlock sat cross legged, consciously relaxed each muscle, keeping spine and neck erect, arms relaxed on his lap, as he keep repeating Kesh's words in his mind.

"_The reason for a meditation posture, is to stabilize the body, so that it ceases to be of import for some time. You are now able to concentrate on the inner layers. You are no longer identified with your body. The longer you practice, the easier it becomes."_

Established in his posture now, Sherlock focused on his breathing.

"_The sheath underneath it is the vital sheath. This is the life force in you. When you breathe, when your heart beats, all of this is happening in the vital sheath. It is subtler than the physical sheath."_

He first took deep breaths in and out, for several moments. As he concentrated on his breathing, the body seemed to recede in the background. He then deliberately breathed alternately from each nostril, using his fingers to pinch each nostril, as he filled and emptied his lungs.

"_You feel joy from the vital sheath, when you use your body to experience physical exertion, sports, exercise, deep breathing, vigorous sex. This joy lasts longer, minutes or hours. It has a higher intensity."_

Sherlock turned his focus to his mind next.

"_The third sheath is the mind. This is your emotional sheath. Where you experience pain, pleasure, joy, sorrow, triumph, disaster and you react to them. Where you feel anger, guilt, jealousy, hope, fear, despair and react to them. Where you store your memories of the past and aspirations for the future."_

"_This is the sheath with which you most strongly identify with, the center of the self seeking, aggrandizing, copyrighting ego. This is where you identify with your relationships. I am a son, I am a father, I am a friend, I am an enemy. All these come from here. This is the mental sheath. It is subtler, much more difficult to grasp than the body and is the hardest to quell. But if you practice it, you will realize that the moment you are able to create a space between yourself and the mind, the moment you are able to watch the mind, you can command the mind."_

Sherlock started examining his mind, all the thoughts, the scattered, innumerable thoughts, brought them out of his mind palace to examine them, dispassionately. As he turned his focus towards his mind, his body was forgotten, his breathing had become shallow, almost unnoticeable.

"_The joy from the mental sheath lasts even longer and is more intense. When you hold a loved one, when you experience pride from an accomplishment, when you anticipate something, when you reflect back on good memories."_

Sherlock examined each feeling, each thought. The waves of nostalgia that had gripped him yesterday, the anxiety of what Kesh's response would be, the excitement of going back to his Work, the wrenching sensation in his gut at the thought of leaving Kesh. He held each thought, looked at it, then put it aside temporarily.

He turned his attention to his favourite sheath of all, where he genuinely felt at home.

"_The fourth sheath is your intellect. This is where your powers of analysis, your deductions, your rationale, your higher thinking, abstract thinking, your discrimination operates. This is your intellectual sheath. This is much more subtle, very difficult indeed to separate from the mind. Most people think that the two are one and the same. But they lie in different spheres altogether, you will realize if you analyse it."_

He looked around at the glory, the beauty of his intellect, of what it was capable of, and reveled in it for a while. This however, was not what he was seeking. As he inspected his rational, higher mind, his tumultuous thoughts receded, the focus now removed from them. Body and breathing had long been forgotten.

"_The joy from the intellectual sheath is more profound and very intense. When you solve a puzzle, create something, debate and rationalize something, learn something. To you, Sherlock, I think for a majority of the time, you live in this intellectual sheath- the joy of deducing, the joy of composing your music- these are well known to you. The joy is so intense, that you crave it, it is a very high caliber of happiness indeed."_

With great reluctance, and with some difficulty, Sherlock pushed his analytical brain aside as well. And was confronted initially with a nothingness….No thoughts …. just himself. Just a consciousness, not a consciousness _of_ anything….consciousness without a focus….vast, undivided fullness.

"_The last and final sheath, hidden under all this is the real you. The essence, that is pure being, pure existence, pure awareness, pure consciousness. This is you. This is the sheath of pure bliss. It is mighty, it is all powerful, from it springs everything outwards. When you connect to this, you command all the resources of the cosmos."_

"_But, Kesh, if this sheath is consciousness, how can everyone have a different consciousness? How can consciousness be divided?"_

_Kesh laughed delightedly, "Exactly, Sherlock! There can be only one consciousness, only one truth. One without a second. At the essence of it, we are indeed one, all of us, part of a vast oneness. Like waves forming in an ocean, each wave thinks it is a separate entity and frolics during its short existence. But we are not separate. We are all the water only, the ocean only."_

Sherlock sat, and witnessed…..just himself as all extraneous factors that he identified himself with. Neither the body, nor the mind, nor the intellect. Nothing else existed. And having arrived, he asked, "What should I do?" And meditated in the absolute silence, around him and in him.

* * *

><p>Haridas knocked the door gently, and came into the study with chai tea and some biscuits. Seeing Kesh sitting near the window, lost in thought, he put the tea on the table, and left as quietly as he could.<p>

Kesh sat looking out at the beautiful vision of a meditating Sherlock, still as a statue, relaxed and calm. He had been watching his friend for the past four hours, his joy and satisfaction growing exponentially, as he watched. Having come to his study to fetch something to read, unable to sleep, at five in the morning, he had found Sherlock, deep in meditation.

_It worked, he listened. He is practicing. Now, nothing can go wrong. Now it is up to Totality. My job is done. _

He laughed in pure delight, as he sipped his tea.

* * *

><p>"Haridas," Sherlock's voice boomed as he ran down the stairs, two at a time, "Haridas!"<p>

He swerved into the kitchen, with a smile, as Haridas hurriedly stood up. "What is it, Sherlock?"

"Where's Kesh?"

"He went for a meeting with the school board. The school is almost complete and they wanted to take him for a tour. He should be back in 3-4 hours."

Sherlock scowled. "Well, that can't be helped. Can I use the phone in my room to make a couple of calls?"

"Sherlock, this house is yours, everything here is yours. How can you ask _me_ for permission?" said Haridas smiling, as he peered at Sherlock's happy face, with hope in his eyes.

* * *

><p>It was past lunch time, when a freshly showered Sherlock, lay on his bed, playing with the phone, as he thought.<p>

_Mycroft or John? Whom should I ring first?_

He tapped the phone on his chin, as he mulled over his choice.

* * *

><p>Hurried clicking of high heels echoed in the long corridor as Anthea broke into an uncharacteristic trot on the way to Mycroft's conference room.<p>

Deep in conversation with the Belgium ambassador and his aide, Mycroft looked up, displeased at the interruption.

"What is it?"

"Sir, there is a phone call for you."

"Take a message. I told you expressly, I do not wish to be disturbed."

"But Sir, it is _the_ phone call you have been waiting for."

Mycroft looked at Anthea, hope and joy dawning on his face, almost without his consent. He took a deep breath, and excused himself, "Pardon me, gentlemen. I do need to take this call. It is a matter of great importance," so saying he stood up and walked out of the room, only the slight tremor of excitement in his hands betraying his mental state.

He took the phone from Anthea, who left him alone. Cradling the phone, as if it were the most precious thing in the world, he walked towards the windows in the corridor, and looked out, as he took a deep breath.

"Sherlock….." even the sound of his name, being able to address his brother directly after two months, made a thrill of relief go through him.

"Mycroft…."rumbled the deep familiar baritone, the phone almost shook in Mycroft's hand at the depth of that voice.

Both brothers were silent for a few moments, in communion, reading each other's thoughts effortlessly as always.

Finally, Mycroft said, "How have you been, Sherlock?"

"Three, Mycroft? That seems a bit excessive!"

"Well, I needed to make sure….I had to be certain that you were alright. Did you spot all the operatives?" Mycroft said with a chuckle.

"Within minutes, Mycroft! They have been faithfully tailing me and for once, I have nothing to hide" Sherlock said, voice indulgent. "Well, if it gives you some peace of mind, so be it."

Another period of silence followed, as both men gathered their thoughts.

"How are you?"

Sherlock's voice was bathed in warmth, as he answered, "Good, Mycroft. I have been really…good. Its been fantastic. Just what I needed."

"I am pleased. That is good to hear," Mycroft's smile stretched even further. "How is Kesh?"

"Kesh is….he is…quite extraordinary, Mycroft. Even more so than I had remembered. He saved me. He saved me again…He's an extraordinary man."

"And how are the both of you?" Mycroft asked after a pause, tone meaningful.

"We are good, Mycroft. Really good together…" After another long pause, Sherlock said in a quiet tone, "My, he loves me. Passionately. Unconditionally. Unreservedly…I have …..I have never seen anything like it. I find it hard to believe that I am capable of arousing such an emotion in anyone… We have become quite….intimate."

Mycroft found himself tearing up, much to his surprise, as he tried to say in an even tone, "That's good. That's good, isn't it?" He wanted to uncharacteristically punch the air with a fist, even as he grinned out of the window.

"Mycroft, I have decided to return. In about a week. I will get Kesh to make the arrangements."

"And Kesh. Is he coming with you?" Mycroft frowned at the long pause, that followed his question. Eventually, Sherlock said, "I have no doubt, that if I were to ask him, he would follow me anywhere."

"But?"

"It doesn't feel right. Not quite right now. I…..I care about him deeply. He is…..quite extraordinary. His love for me is breathtaking in its depth and complete submission. But, unless I am able to reciprocate his feelings with the same intensity, how can I ask him to leave his country, his home, his life? With what guarantee could I ask that of him? It would be wrong. It would be taking advantage."

"I see," said Mycroft thoughtfully, as his elation beginning to deflate. "Well, we can talk when you get back anyways"

"I'll text you the details as soon as the flights are booked. It will be good to be back, Mycroft."

"Mum and dad will be pleased. Does John know?"

"No, I was just about to call him. How is he? How is Mrs Hudson?"

"She is fine. Couple of doctor's appointments with her arthritis. But it has been quiet at her end. Nothing much to report on John either. Rosa is growing well. He is either at work or at home. Not much socializing. Has had a couple of evenings with Lestrade."

"I'll call him now, Mycroft. Will let you know the details of the flights soon."

"Give my deepest regards to Kesh…..And, Sherlock….I hope you know what you are doing, baby brother. It is not often that one gets to have the complete devotion of an 'extraordinary man'."

"It will work out, Mycroft. I _know_ it will."

* * *

><p>"John, can you get that, I have my hands full here," called out Mary from the kitchen, hands deep in the pasta mix, as she kneaded, "JOHN…"<p>

"Yeah, hang on a minute," cried John irritably, as he quickly finished putting on the diaper and tenderly snuggled Rosa, walking out to living room.

One hand cradling her wiggling body, he picked up the phone, and frowned at an unfamiliar number, "Hello?"

"John…." Sherlock's voice sounded warm, open.

After a moment of silent surprise ,"Sherlock…..my God, is that you? Sherlock, for the love of God…." said John, a trifle breathlessly, as he tried to adjust Rosa in his arms.

John could practically see the eyeroll, as Sherlock responded with put on patience, "Yes, John, it is I. "

"Gosh, Sherlock, where the hell have you been? How could you leave without a word! I've been….worried….thinking of you, you know?"

Mary walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands, questioning look in her eyes, as she took Rosa from John's arms. "It's Sherlock," John whispered delightedly.

"Say hello to Mary from me, John. And how is Rosa?"

"Yeah, good, she's good, big girl now, and growing bigger."

"That is good to know. I received your letter yesterday."

"Yesterday! I must have sent it three weeks ago!"

"Well, it _is _India. It got sent to another town called Devprayag instead, but made its way here eventually."

"So how's India? I didn't know you had any friends there!"

"Well I do. And yes, it has been good. I just called to tell you that I should be back in London in a week to ten days maximum. And of course to tell you that I did receive your letter, and ask about Mary and Rosa."

"Yeah well, it's good…..good to hear your voice…. And very good to hear that you are coming back. Lestrade is at his wit's end. And I have…missed going on cases you know? It's just been just the clinic and Rosa…" John laughed selfconciously.

"I know, John. Everything will be back to normal soon, I hope."

Tired from a long day that had started before dawn, satisfied at his decision, Sherlock slept waiting for Kesh's return.

* * *

><p>The sun was setting in the horizon, when Sherlock entered the terrace outside Kesh's room.<p>

Kesh sat on the divan, working on his laptop, which he promptly put aside at Sherlock's arrival. Alert eyes looked at Sherlock noting his exuberance, his well rested peaceful face, and a smile broke out on Kesh's.

Sherlock walked up to Kesh and dropped down on his knees, to look at him. His smile got wider as he said, "I did it, Kesh. I did it."

"I know."

"It was magnificent. I know I am still just at the fringes, but the sheer happiness….no…..as you said, it is bliss. I want to practice and practice, till I reach it."

Kesh chuckled, and ruffled Sherlock's hair with one hand affectionately, as he said, "I know."

Shuffling closer, Sherlock held Kesh's face, with his hands, as he whispered gently, "I have decided, Kesh."

Kesh smiled, face open, accepting as he said, "I know, Sherlock. When do you leave?"

"I would like to go in a week if I could. I know I am not completely ready yet, but I _know_ I will be. Can you have Uddhav book the tickets for me?"

"_Evam Astu_….."Kesh said softly.

Sherlock touched his forehead to Kesh's as he mumbled, breath mixing with Kesh's, "What does that mean, Kesh?"

"It is Sanskrit, for 'So be it'," replied Kesh. A silence followed, as Sherlock gazed intently at Kesh, trying to pick his words carefully.

Still in the soft, gentle voice, Sherlock said, "I know, Kesh…. I _know_ you want to come with me. I _know_ you are waiting for me to ask you to come with me…."

Kesh leaned back, and looked down, silent. Sherlock raised his chin up and scanned his face, as he said, "Kesh, you are very important to me. I care about you very deeply…I have thought about it…about you coming with me…living in 221B….have imagined, introducing you to everyone I know, showing you my London…..but not right now, not yet, Kesh. I need to be _sure_. Anything else will be less than fair to you. I need time….will you give me time?"

Kesh looked up, with warm eyes, as he replied, "I will always wait for you, Sherlock."

Sherlock put his hand down, fidgeting, as for the first time he looked diffident. He took a deep breath, as he asked, "Are you still mine, Kesh?"

"I am and will always be yours, Sherlock."

Leaning closer, Sherlock ghosted over Kesh's lips, "Good. because, I really, really need to have you tonight." Both looked up, as Haridas called for dinner, and chuckled at the timing.

"Tonight," Sherlock promised, as he pulled Kesh up.

* * *

><p>"Gently, Kesh. Do you need more lube?" Sherlock murmured, as both men looked down and watched Kesh slowly lowering himself on Sherlock, his long, thick hardness inching into Kesh. Sherlock petted his trembling thighs in gentle, soothing circles, watching in breathless pleasure, as the warmth and tightness of Kesh's core engulfed him. Part of him wanted to thrust up desperately, while the other was flitting between the erotic sight of an open hole hungrily grasping him, and Kesh's awestruck face.<p>

Kesh shook his head in response, and gasped, "Sherlock, so full. I feel so full…..Sherlock, please."

"Shh… almost there. Doing so well, Kesh," as with a final push, Kesh accepted him fully, and looked at Sherlock in wonder.

"Come here…don't move yet…. Come here…..you are so tight, Kesh. Made for me. Mine…..my Kesh….come here," Sherlock groaned as he pulled Kesh to him, and languidly claimed his mouth. He parted the panting lips with his tongue as he expertly licked and caressed and played with Kesh.

Kesh buried his face into the crook of Sherlock's neck as he murmured, "I thought I would never have this again, Sherlock. I thought I would never feel your arms around me again."

Sherlock nuzzled him gently, breathing in the sandalwood scent, tangling his hand into Kesh's curls, as he pulled his face up. Looking at him seriously, he said in a quiet tone, "Kesh, I don't think I could ever have sex with anyone else ever again. You have completely ruined me for anyone else." He brought Kesh's face closer to place soft kisses onto his lips, as he murmured, "Who could ever look at me with so much love? How could I ever have sex, and not want to see the overwhelming love that spills over, unable to be contained in the body?"

"I love you, Sherlock….I love you so much," whispered Kesh.

Sherlock rubbed their noses together, as he said, "I know, Kesh. God help me, I know…..soon, Kesh….give me some time, to be sure….you know, I've fantasized about having you on every surface of 221B…..soon, my Kesh…" So saying he pulled Kesh's hips up, as he started slowly moving himself. He kneaded his ass with both hands, as he rocked in and out of Kesh lazily, taking his cock almost completely out before plunging in with sure long strokes, lips busy with nuzzling and biting Kesh's neck and shoulder, enjoying Kesh's helpless noises. After a few moments, he placed his hips firmly on the bed, and pushed Kesh upright.

"Move, Kesh. Fuck yourself on me. I want to watch, watch you lose control…" he murmured, voice husky and deep, as he curled a palm around Kesh's cock, and stroked with leisurely strokes. Kesh raised and lowered himself, eyes wide with pleasure, as he found the right angle, such that with each stroke, Sherlock's cock head nudged and caressed his prostate.

Sherlock watched and relished the tight clenching, the sweat dripping from Kesh's forehead, the hardness of his cock in his hands which twitched and jerked with need. He raised his other hand, to rub and pinch Kesh's nipples, smiling wickedly at the broken litany of "Please, Sherlock…..please, feels so good, feel so full…..never want this to stop….. love you…love you."

He caressed and petted Kesh's arms, his thighs as he worked hard, moving, gasping, moaning. He tugged at the heated shaft in his hands, in tandem with each thrust, enjoying the exquisite friction and warmth, as he took his pleasure in the core of Kesh, humming his pleasure, shushing Kesh's desperate pleas.

When Kesh's thighs started trembling uncontrollably with effort, he pulled him closer, and lifted him roughly. Holding both cheeks, spreading them with his hands, he spread his own legs further and planted both feet on the bed firmly, as he began thrusting. Holding the by now shivering Kesh, he pistoned his cock in and out, slamming with increasingly brutal thrusts, as he grunted with effort. The room filled with the sounds of grunting and begging, and flesh slapping against flesh, as his thighs slammed against Kesh's buttocks with every plunge. "Take yourself in hand, Kesh," he gasped breathlessly, as he continued to pound into him with ferocity, eyes gone dark with lust and staring at Kesh's wide pupils and desperate sounds.

"Please, Sherlock….need to come….. too much…..Oh God…feels so good….yes, yes, Sherlock… please help me…." Kesh's sobs intensified until he spurted forth with loud cry , hot strings of his come mixed with the sweat on Sherlock's chest and belly. Sherlock hooked his hands to Kesh's shoulders, fingers digging in, as he pushed down, sinking Kesh's clenched entrance further over his shaft, as his cock swelled and twitched, and with a loud gasp and widened eyes, he came. He pulsed on and on inside Kesh, bathing his insides with his release, as he rode the crest of his orgasm.

Chests held close as they both panted in the joy of their exertion and their climax, they both gave way to delighted laughs mixed with rough exhalations, kissing, rubbing, caressing. Stroking back Kesh's damp hair, Sherlock mumbled, "And that, my Kesh, _that_ is what a good, hard shag feels like," as he ran the other hand gently over Kesh's back.

After a while, Kesh sat up and cleaned Sherlock with a t-shirt. As he tried to get off, Sherlock stopped him and said quietly, "Stay a while, Kesh. Want to be inside you for a while longer."

Kesh rested on Sherlock's chest, content with feeling those beautiful fingers running over his back, his neck, his hair and listening to the strong heartbeat under him. _I wish I could stay like this forever, never move. How am I going to live without him? _

He lifted himself eventually, and braced himself on his forearms as he said, "Sherlock, can I ask you for something?"

Sherlock smiled tenderly, as he said, "Kesh, my Kesh….I am post coital right now. I have emptied myself completely inside you." He dipped his fingers into the leaking moistness out of Kesh's entrance, around his softening cock, and held it up, "You are dripping with my come. Right now, I cannot think of anything that you would ask of me, and I would decline," he said. He took in the serious expression on Kesh's face, as he said quietly, "Ask, Kesh."

Kesh took a deep breath as he said, "Before you leave, can I take you for one last trip. It will be for about two days. There will be climbing. It is to a place, very special to my heart…I do not understand it, but something tells me very strongly, that I must take you there. I don't know when or if you will come back to India, once you leave…Please, Sherlock?"

"Is that all? Of course I will come with you," said Sherlock, gently stroking Kesh's sweat damp hair back from his forehead, "Anywhere at all. And the climbing does not bother me."

Kesh straightened himself and climbed off. "Then I better go down and make the arrangements. I will also call Uddhav and ask him to book your flight."

* * *

><p>It was almost an hour later that Kesh slipped into the bedroom again. The bedside lamp was still on, but Sherlock appeared to be dozing. He got into bed softly, looking at Sherlock's face, marveling again at the beauty, the wonder of having this man beside him.<p>

Sherlock opened his eyes dreamily and smiled.

"Every time you open your eyes, it seems to me that a curtain has gone up to reveal the most beautiful painting in the world," Kesh whispered softly. "How are your eyes so beautiful? How do they manage to project the brilliance behind them so well?"

Running a gentle finger over Kesh's cheekbones, Sherlock replied lazily, "You're biased, Kesh."

Kesh shrugged and said, "Maybe….Sherlock, I called Uddhav. He will arrange for your flight first thing in the morning."

"He must not be pleased," said Sherlock softly. "He will find it a betrayal."

"I'll talk him around, don't worry. He is a good man….I've also made the arrangements for tomorrow. Sherlock, we leave at four in the morning. Vedant, Partha and Haridas want to come as well. I hope you don't mind?"

Sherlock pulled Kesh close, and got him to roll over, so he could spoon him from behind. Hugging Kesh, he replied, "Why should I mind? As long as you are with me, I don't care?"

He yawned loudly, and slid his hand down, to Kesh's ass, touching his pajama clad cleft gently, and asked, "Sore?"

Kesh shook his head and said, "A bit. But it feels good….it felt so good, Sherlock," as he raised Sherlock's hands and softly kissed them.

Burying his face into Kesh's neck, Sherlock replied, "I know, Kesh. So good…...Early start tomorrow….sleep, my Kesh."

To be continued…..


	15. Kaalosmi- I am death

I believe that those few who have read this far into this story are undoubtedly mature, adult readers. It seems a bit silly to post "triggers" and "warnings". But still, be warned, read the chapter title and proceed with caution….

I wish to express my gratitude to "Honourable" at who kindly helped me with the final polishing of this chapter. Thank you.

* * *

><p>They did manage to leave at four in the morning.<p>

It was 7.30 am when the car finally stopped, after a harrowing three and half hour drive, through treacherous narrow roads, broken in places due to streams and rains, through road blocks, some traffic jams. Despite Vedant's expert driving, and sheer pigheadedness as the large SUV ploughed through, it had still taken a considerably longer time, than the anticipated two hours. It had been drizzling lightly, when they began their journey, now the rain was getting heavier.

_Sherlock sat next to Vedant. Kesh, Partha and Haridas were at the back. Vedant had talked almost non-stop, making both Kesh and Sherlock smile. "Sherlock sir, the last time I went to Kedarnath, it was in the summer. So green on the ground, so beautiful, surrounded by the snow covered Himalayas. It is a very beautiful place, Sherlock sir. And the temple is lovely. I did not think I would get a chance to go again. The moment Hrishikesh bhaiyya said, he is taking you, I immediately said I want to come as well. It is very high in the Himalayas. We will have to walk 14 kms from Gaurikund. It will take at least 6 hours. I hope you are fit and able to do it." A stoic, quiet Partha rolled his eyes, as Haridas grinned._

They put on their raincoats as they got out of the car.

"This is Gaurikund, Sherlock," said Kesh, undaunted by the rain, as he gestured to the small town they had landed in. Even this early, it was buzzing with pilgrims as they ate breakfast, bought walking sticks and flimsy plastic raincoats, determined to reach the Kedarnath valley and get darshan (an auspicious sighting) of one of the four main pilgrimage sites of the area. "I love coming to Kedarnath, Sherlock. It is the most beautiful, most spiritual place in the world to me. The sense of absolute peace and beauty here must be experienced."

Waving to the crowds, Kesh continued,"All these people are on an itinerary. I told you, religious tourism is big in India, and this is the season to see Lord Kedarnath. You see, the valley lies 11500 feet above sea level, so it is closed for 6 months of the year due to snow. Take away another 2-3 months of rain, and we are left with a small period only," Kesh explained as they walked slowly to the main launching area for the fourteen kilometre trek. Vedant, Partha and Haridas followed slowly behind, both Vedant and Partha carrying the small bags with clothes and other belongings.

Kesh's phone rang and he answered it. "It is Uddhav, Sherlock. He has managed to book your flight eight days from now. I hope that is okay?

"That's fine,"Sherlock replied absently, as he looked around fascinated and said in wonder, "This is a lot of people, Kesh."

"It is, isn't it? It is estimated that around 20000-40000 people go up and down this trek every day, during the pilgrimage season."

They halted at a busy section on a bridge, with scores of people everywhere. Men leading mules yelled out the price for a ride on mule back up and down to Lord Kedarnath. Several men, with cane carriages on their back, waited as the tourist haggled about prices, for a privilege of being carried on the back of another human. Palanquins lay scattered around, able to be carried by four men, asking the highest price of all.

While some haggled with prices, other devotees, mostly poorer folk, just took to walking up the slippery, stone paved path, with a look of both determination and devotion, as they passed the first sign which stated, "**Kedarnath-14 km ahead**"

Vedant haggled with a pitthuwala (who carried passengers on his back in a cane seat) to his satisfaction, before assisting the frail Haridas onto the back with Partha's help. Haridas did namaste to Kesh, before the pitthuwala took off at full speed.

"Sherlock sir, these pitthuwala's make this trek, up-and-back, three to four times a day, to earn maximum money. I am not sure how they do it. But they have to earn enough in these four months to last them the whole year or their families will starve," explained an elated Vedant, who looked chuffed to be there. "I can't wait to see the Lord, it has been so many years since I came here," he said as they all took off for the grueling journey.

Helicopters sounded overhead, as they walked, Kesh explained, "Most of the rich and middle class people now take a chopper ride to Kedarnath valley. Do darshan, hang around for a bit and leave by evening. No stress, no worries. Although it has been drizzling, I would have thought that would make flying a helicopter dangerous. It is unseasonal, this rain, the monsoons have come early this time," he added thoughtfully.

Sherlock smiled, as he looked at Kesh and asked, "Kesh, you have enough money to buy all the helicopters in the area. Why are you walking?"

Kesh took a deep breath, as he answered, "Look around you, Sherlock. I wouldn't want you to miss this. And besides, one needs to work hard to meet Divinity. You can't ask for comfort there too."

They climbed, dodging the pittuwalas, the palanquins, the mules, as the path rose and rose above them. To their right, the Mandakini river flowed, swollen with the constant drizzling from the night before. The path was slippery, and wet, as they took support from each other and others, saying, "Sorry…sorry"

The sun had been playing hide and seek, the rain increasing steadily as they climbed.

* * *

><p>It was around noon, that Sherlock and Kesh raised a cup of hot chai tea to each other and ate pakoras resting on a ragged wooden stool, as they watched the rain dripping down, next to a sign that said, "<strong>Rambara. Kedarnath-7 kms ahead<strong>." The hamlet of about 5000 people was buzzing with tourists and pilgrims taking a rest in the long trek. Horses and mules neighed, boys and girls walked around selling hot chai, cold drinks, packets of chips, maggi noodles, temple icons.

Sherlock pointed at a trio of pilgrims. An elderly couple was walking uphill painstakingly, the old thin woman bent into half by her aged spine, holding a walking stick in her trembling hands. The old man seemed to be visually impaired, as a woman in her thirties held his hand, leading him carefully. Their clothes were washed out and tattered, there was no footwear on their feet. The younger woman was continuously chanting aloud, "Om Namah Shivaya," as she walked. Strangely moved by the sight, Sherlock asked Kesh, "Can't we get one of the palanquins or pitthuwalas for them?"

Kesh smiled gently, "Sherlock, they would not accept it. It is a pilgrimage of a lifetime, you see. Everyone has their own unique way of approaching the Lord."

Sherlock held his hot cup with one hand, even as he waved around his other hand still holding a hot pakora, chewing as he talked, "So tell me. Who is Lord Kedarnath?"

"He is Lord Shiva," replied Kesh.

"Why do you people have so many Gods? Every few metres there seems to be a temple. All to different Gods, all holding weapons," remarked Sherlock.

Kesh laughed, and laughed. "We do not have many Gods, Sherlock. But the concept of oneness is difficult to understand, and the idea of praying to a nameless, faceless God, is beyond most people. The ancients also reasoned that it is human nature to want things. So they created a God for every desire. The idea was, once that desire was granted, it forged a greater bond between God and man, and this went on, till the faith reached a critical tipping point. The point where one stopped asking for things of the world, and asked for knowledge, for faith, for God himself."

"So when you want wealth, you go to Goddess Laxmi, when you want knowledge, you go to Goddess Saraswati, when you want strength, you go to Lord Hanuman and so on."

"What about that elephant God, Ganesha?" asked Sherlock, intrigued.

"Well Lord Ganesha is actually Lord Shiva's son. One goes to him to ask for removal of obstacles. Initially maybe to ask for removal of obstacles to job promotion or daughter getting married, or a sickness and other such worldly things. But eventually, when wisdom starts dawning, to ask for removal of obstacles to self knowledge."

"And Lord Shiva, what does one ask of him?"

"Lord Shiva has two moods or two forms. As _Rudra_, he is the ferocious one, the destroyer, constantly dancing his Dance of Death and Destruction, since the beginning of creation, so that the old can give way to the new, so that life evolves and continues. If you have the _courage_ to dance with him, he will destroy your ignorance."

"As _Shiva_, he is the auspicious, gentle one, the one who grants the ultimate of graces…_Moksha_, freedom from ignorance, freedom from everything that binds you to this world and takes you away from the truth."

* * *

><p>It was still raining heavily, when Sherlock spooned Kesh from behind in bed on the first floor of their hotel room.<p>

_Earlier, they had gone to see the temple._

_Sherlock had marveled at the beautiful architecture of the 5000 year old temple, as he ran his fingers over the rock structure, "Kesh, these walls must be at least three feet thick," he said. _

"_That's right, Sherlock. Three feet thick stone only and dry- arranged in a particular formation. No cement or mortar holding it together. It has stood the test of time, for 5000 years!"_

_There were two small cave- like rooms inside, one for waiting with stone statues on the wall, and one with the main Shiv linga (the form of Shiva). Sherlock stood respectfully, arms behind his back, as Kesh, Haridas, Vedant and Partha offered prayers and oblations._

_Later they had stood outside on the high platform on which the temple stood, and looked around. Huge mountains lay behind the mandir. The narrow valley was entirely surrounded by tall Himalayan peaks, obscured by cloud cover._

Now, in bed, fully clothed, both men shivered with cold, listening to the torrent of rain outside. "I'd give anything to get warm. Why can't they have electric heaters in here? It's so cold." he complained as he buried his cold nose into Kesh's neck. "I don't even have the courage to lower my trousers and slide inside you, Kesh and create some body heat," Sherlock exclaimed through chattering teeth.

Kesh laughed, as he poked his elbow backwards into Sherlock, "Shh, Sherlock. Don't talk like that. This is a holy place," he chided.

He continued after a pause, "I can't explain it….but something inside me seemed to be urging me to bring you here….I had hoped to show you so many places here. There is a cave formation up the mountains that is excellent for meditation. Also, there is a lake, called Chaurabari Lake, formed at the base of the receding glacier, high up on the mountain behind the temple. It is beautiful, the water is so pure, untouched."

Sherlock shrugged, " Who would have thought it would be raining this much? Let's get some sleep now. Every muscle in my body hurts, and this bloody cold is not helping."

Kesh smiled.

The rain fell, with increasing intensity through the night, as they fell into a broken sleep.

* * *

><p>The next day, despite the rains, the market and temple complex was busy as ever. Hundreds of pilgrims queued outside to have a sighting of the Lord. Small shops scattered all around sold various paraphernalia for prayers, for oblations, miniature statues of various Gods, packed small bottles of the holy Mandakini river water. Many stalls sold hot cups of chai tea, hot Maggi noodles and pakoras. Fakirs and sadhus sat gloriously naked or only wearing a loin cloth, chanting and enticing tourists to pay them money. Raincoats and umbrellas abounded. Brisk trading of prime spots for "premium darshan" was going on- meaning to pay some money to be sneaked past the long line of pilgrims, see Lord Shiva and get out of there.<p>

Standing on the common balcony of their hotel into which six of the hotel rooms opened, Sherlock and Kesh watched the show. Kesh talked to some men, gathered on the ground outside of the only post office in town. They yelled out to each other, about the unrelenting rain, and that pilgrims were finding it difficult to walk up the trek on this day. Many mobile lines were non functional. Kesh frowned, as he looked up at the mountains behind the temple.

"It has been raining for twenty four hours now, Sherlock," he said, "Up there in the mountains are two glaciers. They have receded a lot in recent times due to global warming. One is the source for the river Mandakini, which is to the right of this town, the other for the much smaller river Saraswati to the left. Wonder what all the rain is doing to them?" He looked at the heavens, at the steady sheet of rain, at the dense cloud cover thoughtfully.

He put on a determined smile, as he said to Sherlock, "Let's go and have a look at the river Mandakini. These people were just saying they have never seen her this flooded previously."

They made their way through narrow lanes, amid assorted hotels and houses and stalls, towards the river. And stared in awe at the swollen, crazed river flow from the safety of their vantage point.

"I've never seen anything like this," said Sherlock with wonder in his voice.

Kesh agreed, "No one has."

* * *

><p>Haridas sat on the ground floor room of the hotel, wrapped in blankets trying to get warm, sipping a hot cup of tea in his hands as he shivered. The rain fell in torrents outside, windows rattling with the sound. He wished Hrishikesh and Sherlock were with him. He prayed to the Lord, for relief.<p>

* * *

><p>Sherlock, Kesh, Vedant and Partha stood, along with hundreds of others, watching in fascination at the swollen river, roaring past them.<p>

"No one's mobile phone is working," yelled Partha above the din.

"The helicopters haven't been working all day either. Everyone who had booked to go back today is stranded here," added Vedant.

Sherlock looked around at the dense dark blue-gray cloud cover which had extended down half the mountains. The snow covered peaks were hidden today. The sounds of thunder echoed through the narrow valley.

Suddenly, a ear splitting, thunderous sound echoed through the valley, seeming to come from top of the mountain behind the Kedar dome. Everyone looked up, even as cries rang out, "Cloud burst….cloud burst," as en masse the entire populace raced away from the river and tried to find higher ground.

"Vedant, Partha, run…get Haridas to the first floor, warn everyone to get higher, " yelled Kesh, even as he grabbed Sherlock's hand and ran inwards.

Trying to dodge the hundreds of running people, Sherlock panted out, "What's a cloudburst?"

"Two low pressure systems colliding at the top of a mountain which creates sudden and very heavy dumping of hundreds of thousands of gallons of water all at once," yelled Kesh, as the pair made a beeline for their hotel.

Even as they turned to look, a mammoth amount of water was gushing down the mountainside, aided by channels created by the receding glaciers, over the centuries. It was as if the floodgates of hell had opened. The waters joined the already raging Mandakini river on one side and Saraswati on the other, as the deluge raced downwards.

Reaching the first floor of the hotel they were just in time, to see some riverside houses collapse, crumbling like a pack of cards, carrying whoever was inside with them into the rivers. Haridas had been relocated to the first floor, and clutched Kesh's hand as he watched.

From their vantage point on the balcony they could see the main temple. The temple and its platform were the highest points in the whole of Kedar, and were now completely blanketed by a mass of humanity.

Vedant rushed into the balcony, panting as he brought news, "People are refusing to come out of the temple. There are some dead people inside, suffocated, because of overcrowding and a stampede and lack of air. But the people trapped inside are too scared to lose their spot in the only place they feel safe."

Partha added, "The power lines are mostly gone. It is going to be a dark night. And cold." A shiver could be heard in his voice.

Sherlock and Kesh looked around at the mayhem, and assessed the situation.

"Vedant, Partha go and look for food, scrounge around, pay whatever you have to. Bring people here into this lodge, at least they will be sheltered for the night. Tell the manager we will pay all the expenses."

Sherlock added, "And grab whatever is dry and warm. Look out for any candles, matchboxes, oil, oil lamps. Kesh and I will go down and see if we can persuade people to come in."

* * *

><p>The six rooms on the first floor of Sherlock's hotel were full of people. Some sitting on the beds, some on the floors, strangers huddling together, listening to the fear inducing sounds of the incessant heavy downpour and the river rapids. It was mostly dark, with the exception of some oil lamps, usually used in prayers. Everyone refused to be on the ground floor, as the waters had risen up to knee height on the ground.<p>

At least two children were wailing as they had become separated from their parents. It was unknown if they were alive or had been swept away. Food was in very short supply, as the unprecedented increased population of Kedarnath ate the basic rations, and many tried to hoard food, unsure of when they would be able to get out of there.

Sherlock and Kesh were moving from room to room, trying to ensure safety, reassuring people, and making sure everyone had eaten something. After one more round, they stood together on the common balcony.

The darkness was profound. Sherlock slipped his arm around Kesh's waist and held him, as they looked out. They heard Vedant and Partha come up the stairs and turned to face them.

Barely able to see each other's faces, they listened, as Partha said, "The bridge that connects the walking trail by which we came up to Kedarnath town has been washed away. Now we are an island, with no connection to the world."

Sherlock said, "Surely it is only a matter till the morning! They would send rescue teams, surely."

Kesh gave a wry laugh as he asked, "How? How, Sherlock? It is impossible to fly helicopters in this weather. Nothing can happen till the rains cease."

Vedant chimed in, "Sherlock sir, this is India. No one will even know what is happening up here. Even if by some miracle someone is able to make phone contact, it will take ages for them to organize anything."

"So we are here, for the foreseeable future, cold, wet, soon to run out of food and morale?" Sherlock summed up the grim situation.

Kesh said softly, "Let us wait till morning. Sometimes daybreak can make things clearer in more ways than one. "

* * *

><p>"Sir, there is some disturbing news that you need to know," whispered Anthea into Mycroft's ear.<p>

He was sitting with the Minister of Finance along with other bureaucrats as they discussed the upcoming budget. An interruption with those words from a usually unflappable Anthea were so unprecedented, that Mycroft rose even before he formulated a response. He just remembered to turn to the Minister at the last moment to murmur, "Excuse me," before he walked to the other end of the room with Anthea, face frowning with concern.

Anthea whispered, "Sir, we have gotten calls from all our operatives in India. Something is not quite right. The Ganges is in full spate and flooding everything in its path. But disturbingly, there are reports of several dead bodies of humans and animals along with broken houses flowing from the Mandakini river which starts at Kedarnath. All communications are down. We do not know what is going on up in those mountains."

The Minister was watching intently, and hence did not miss a most unusual sight, Mycroft Holmes turning pale and looking worried.

Mycroft hissed, "Kedarnath…..isn't that where Sherlock and Kesh are?"

"Yes Sir," said Anthea. "I've gotten in touch with the Foreign Office. They have been in touch with their counterparts in India and with the Ministry of External Affairs. Their meteorological office thinks there might have been a cloud burst that triggered the sudden heavy flooding. No one knows much, but they are looking into it."

"They are looking into it.."repeated Mycroft mechanically, even as his brain raced to compute the possibilities.

After several seconds, he spoke, "Anthea, how much do you trust those operatives?"

"Well, Sir, they are good for routine work. They can only gather information locally, locals are very worried with the numbers of dead bodies. One of the collapsed buildings that has travelled down, though only a part arrived intact, was identified by a local as belonging to a hotel in Kedarnath."

A deep dread settled into Mycroft as he considered his immediate commitments, as well as Sherlock's whereabouts and safety.

"I need to go there. I need to make sure he is safe. I…..Anthea, I _need_ to make sure he is safe. Get me the next flight to India."

"Already done, Sir. Your flight leaves in half an hour, but they will hold it for you. Sir, your bags are packed in the car."

Mycroft returned to the men seated at the conference table. Without preamble he said, "Please excuse me, gentlemen. I need to go. Anthea will explain," said Mycroft as he dashed out, a sense of foreboding in his gut. To Sherlock, to his baby brother.

* * *

><p>At half five the next morning, it was still raining heavily. Everyone had had a restless night. Like the people secluded in the lodge, many others had taken shelter in other places that seemed stable. The temple complex was still full of people, refusing to leave.<p>

_Sherlock and Kesh had spent the night huddled together, sharing a blanket as their bright minds raced through the options. They had spoken in low whispers, trying to work out some sort of strategy. _

_Finally they had decided that come daybreak, it would be reasonable to go past the only bridge connecting the town to the mountains, and trek a bit, to find a higher vantage point, and view the options available to them. _

_Having decided this, they slept fitfully, supporting each other and sharing body warmth. _

"Vedant, Partha, come with us. We are going to climb up the slope of that mountain, to take a view from a higher vantage point," Sherlock instructed at six in the morning. "Haridas, wait here for us, we will be back soon," Kesh said, giving a hug to the old man.

"Please be careful, Hrishikesh," said Haridas, as he clutched Kesh's hand. He turned to Sherlock and said, "Take care of my Hrishikesh, Sherlock."

A grave Sherlock, responded with unusual emotion, "He is mine too, Haridas. I will look after him, don't worry."

* * *

><p>The four men stood, at the slippery slope of the mountain, and gazed awestruck at the devastation. It seemed at least one third of the town was gone. Hundreds of people were moving around dazed and confused. Some were weeping and wailing. Their cries of distress competed with the majestic roar of the rivers.<p>

There were other people on the slopes, with a similar idea as Kesh and Sherlock, and had climbed up to see the devastation. . Some people had spent the night in the mountainside, unwilling to go to a lower level. Some had become stranded, as continuous small landslides blocked their path.

Sherlock scanned as his lighting-fast mind computed the river level, the rainfall, the area he could see, the mathematical probablilities, but even it could not keep up with the might of Nature.

"It has become an island almost, two rivers on two sides and the bridge to the trek gone."

"Maybe we could….." began Sherlock as his voice was interrupted by a booming crack ringing out, louder than any sound anyone had ever heard, sending its echoes up and down the valley. The earth shuddered and vibrated below their feet. It was as if the sky was torn asunder, as all four pairs of eyes stared at the mountain behind the Kedar Dome.

Death was dancing its way down the mountain, at a very fast speed.

A huge wall of water, perhaps a 100 feet tall, made its way down at the speed of an average car, carrying with it all the boulders of the glacier moraine. The earth literally shook, at the impact of the gigantic watery bulldozer ploughing down the mountain.

"O Rudra," cried Kesh, as he looked, hand instinctively wrapping itself around Sherlock's

Hearing the tremendous wall of water proceeding at a break-neck pace towards the temple town, everyone had stopped in their path to watch it, unable to move. Then people screamed as they ran,helter-skelter, trying to escape with nowhere to go.

The water was tossing boulders the size of houses in the air, as if it were a speeding explosion. Within seconds, it hit Kedarnath.

It went about flattening everything in its path. People were crushed under the boulders or carried away by the freak wall of water. Animals were not spared, mules, horses, dogs, cows, swept downstream in the ferocious flow. The sky resounded with screams of men, women and children, who tried to grasp anything, hands frantically trying to grab _something_, poles, edges of houses, fallen wires. Hundreds of mouths twisted in permanent screams as they realized the futility of their situation.

People were falling into the raging river like pebbles. Heads bobbed, as they pleaded, "Help….someone help me." Houses either fell like so many toys, or were inundated with silt, gravel , pebbles and stones, burying everyone alive.

As a group, Sherlock, Kesh and the other men raced down from the mountain slope towards the town, instinctively knowing that everyone was beyond help, but wanting to reach out, and save _someone_. The wall of water had come and gone within less than five minutes, but the town was destroyed, and for a while it seemed, all the people were dead.

They ran to the bridge from where they had climbed up the slopes. Some people were still clinging on to life holding to bits of the bridge and broken tree trunks. Kesh lay down as he reached his hands to a child, who turned a terrified face to him, clutching to a tree branch, saying, "Uncle, please help me…..uncle please help me."

Sherlock ran to the edge, where a woman in her twenties was clinging to one steel pylon with one hand with dear life. He lay down, after anchoring his feet against the edge of the bridge, "Grab my hand, miss. Please grab my hand," he cried, urgently waving his hand at her.

With superhuman strength the woman swung her hand to reach Sherlock, just as her other hand slipped. She wore the red glass bangles of the newly married, her mehndi (henna) still dark in both hands. Tethered to life only by Sherlocks's hand, as the ghastly rapids of the river below bobbed her body effortlessly and pulled on her so that she was horizontal. Many dead and struggling bodies swept below her, carried away by the vicious fury of the waters. Her sari had been swept away some time ago, her lower parkar, swam up, revealing her body to her underwear. Her panicked eyes locked with Sherlock's as she begged brokenly, "Please sir, please don't let me die….. save me, please bhaiyya…"

Sherlock held on with all his might, his arms felt they would come out of their sockets, as a quick glance to Kesh revealed him struggling to save the six year old small boy. He gritted his teeth as he refused to give up. The rapids were rising as the eddies pulled on the woman's clothes; her blouse buttons popped under the strain and her breasts were bared to his view. Her eyes were losing courage, as she feebly whispered, "Please sir, I don't want to die…" Within seconds her hand, made slippery by the river silt, slipped, and she was swept away in front of Sherlock's dazed gaze. He watched her body slam into a nearby huge rock; it almost broke into two, bleeding into the river as it sped away, soundless, for the woman was mercifully already dead.

Rolling onto his back, gasping with rage and frustration, Sherlock roared, an inhuman cry wrenched from his lungs. He opened dejected eyes, to see Kesh looking down at him, arm extended to help him up. Kesh said grimly, "Let's go, Sherlock. We have to go and see what we can do to help." They walked into Kedarnath, holding the naked, bleeding, shivering boy between them, whom Kesh had hauled back to safety, just a few moments earlier.

* * *

><p>The two men ran on limbs trembling with strain and exhaustion, holding the boy between them, into the main town. Damaged buildings lay everywhere. The ones not broken had sand and gravel packed to the ceilings. The whole area was strewn with dead bodies many of them half buried in the debris, only the occasional body parts visible, arms, legs and faces locked in a permanent grimace stuck out of the debris.<p>

Twisted metal spikes were everywhere, broken wood pieces, crumbled tin sheets. Feeble cries of help rang out, as a few able bodied people ran around trying to help, trying to extricate barely alive folks from their pebbled graves.

Vedant and Partha worked with grim determination as they tried to pull people who were still alive. All four had Haridas on their minds as they made their way towards their hotel.

"Uncle, please help me," a frightened small voice called out to Sherlock. A girl of about ten was clinging to the power lines above. Sherlock looked up, and wedging his feet on rocks on the ground to prevent the slippery silty ground from giving way under his feet, he braced himself as he called out, "Jump, child. I'll catch you, jump…." After much cajoling, she gathered the courage to jump as Sherlock sprang to catch her. He fell backward with her on top of him, and hugged this unknown child, thankful to have won one small battle against death.

* * *

><p>A few minutes later, they managed to walk over the unstable, muddy rubble to their hotel. Vedant had taken charge of the two children, trying to find something to cover the boy with. Sherlock reached the hotel first and he could merely stand and stare. Only the first floor was still visible for everything underneath was buried. He asked Kesh hoarsely, "How many people are buried under us, Kesh?"<p>

"I don't know," said Kesh in a somber tone as they walked with trepidation, the prospect of finding a still alive Haridas growing remote. Both men felt numb after having seen so much devastation and death in a matter of a few minutes only.

As the men searched, it was Sherlock who came across Haridas first. Frail body buried in the rubble upto his mid chest, he lay there fighting to breathe, his chest caving in with each inspiration as he saw Sherlock walk up towards him. Even as Sherlock knelt beside him saying over and over, "No…..no, Haridas,,,no," Haridas opened his mouth and a sludgy mix of black earth and silt dripped out. He tried vainly to spit it out, too weak to dislodge the muck, struggling to breathe. As Sherlock reached forward to cradle his head in his lap, Kesh spotted them and ran towards them. Vedant and Partha followed quickly, to help try and extricate Haridas.

The old man's eyes tracked Kesh the moment he saw him. Kesh knelt in front of him, face somber, as he gently stroked his hair. "Hrishikesh….."he croaked with effort.

"I'm here, Haridas. I'm here," mumbled Kesh.

"It is time."

"Yes, it is," said Kesh gently, "And you are going to die at Kedarnath. What greater blessing can there be?"

With great difficulty, Haridas raised his trembling hands and folded them in front of his chest in _Namaste_, as he answered, voice breaking, "I am dying while looking at you. What greater blessing can there be?...Hrishikesh, you have come…..send me off, Hrishikesh."

Kesh nodded, and said, "_Evam astu_, Haridas."

He placed his palm at the center of Haridas's forehead, and closed his eyes for a few seconds and became very still. A loud vibration seemed to erupt from his very being, as taking a deep inhalation he chanted the mystical mantra, "_AUM…..AUM…AUM…_." The vibrations competed successfully with the sounds of the river and the rain, and transferred to Haridas's forehead, as he opened his eyes and fixed his piercing gaze on Haridas. Haridas's face took on a look of serenity and satisfaction as he watched, his soul recognizing a soul deep in Yoga, even as his eyes failed him and closed. He gurgled, bubbles of mud and air frothed around his lips as he breathed his last.

The men stayed silent for a while, tears in their eyes. Eventually Kesh took a deep breath. With tears rolling down his eyes he looked at Sherlock, who stood up, laying Haridas's head gently on the uneven ground, and said gravely, "I'm sorry, Kesh…..Would you like to dig him out?" He came to stand close to Kesh, hand on his shoulder, pressing down in empathy and shared loss. Kesh shook his head, as he stood up as well and looked around, "He is gone. So are thousands of others. What is the point? Let us focus on the living. Let us decide what we must do."

Nodding, Sherlock grabbed a sheet stuck to an iron pole. Kesh and Sherlock approached Haridas's body to cover him. Sherlock looked down at the face of the man who had fed him, bathed him, worried about him, who had only ever wanted to see Sherlock happy with his Hrishikesh. Kesh looked at the man, who had been a father to him since he had been orphaned at eleven years of age. With a grieving heart and tears in their eyes, they covered Haridas with the sheet and arranged a few stones to anchor it in place.

They mutely looked around, as they thought about the next course of action.

* * *

><p>Kesh, Sherlock, Vedant and Partha walked around Kedarnath. It was no longer a town, but a bed of rubble. They came to the temple. The entire huge platform was submerged under silt, but the temple still stood. They walked around it, wondering how it still stood, where everything else had fallen.<p>

A huge boulder the size of a house had lodged itself parallel to the back wall of the temple. It seemed to have split the oncoming water and rubble into two, two clear channels visible on either side of the temple. The boulder had miraculously saved the temple. The 5000 year old stone temple had not suffered any damage apart from a few cracks, and the depositions of silt and sediment inside. There were people inside who were scrambling out, stupefied. There were dead bodies inside, crushed to death by the mass of humanity.

They looked around mutely.

"We live at all times, at the edge of calamity. It is just a matter of tipping to one side, that's all. Death and disaster dance around us, but we ignore it and carry on with our lives, focusing on petty problems, unmindful and oblivious," said Kesh thoughtfully.

After a while, they gathered around to strategize their next action.

* * *

><p>It was five in the afternoon that the group of about forty people finally reached Rambara. A journey which normally took three hours on the walking track had taken eight hours, as they stumbled, hungry, cold, wet and tired. They sucked on their wet clothes to keep hydrated. The stone trek was intact in some places, completely broken in others, at risk of landslides at any moment so they walked in the mountains and forests, to prevent slipping into the rapids below.<p>

_Earlier, they had a brief discussion of their options at Kedarnath. There was no communications, no power, food was gone, no prospects of dramatic rescues. The rain was continuing, hypothermia was a threat when night fell. The structures still standing were half buried in the debris, and too risky to spend the night in. _

_Climbing down the fourteen km to Gaurikund was also fraught with danger. The river raged alongside them all the way, the mountains would be treacherous and slippery. There were frequent landslides from the unstable, waterlogged, fragile mountain sides. _

_But if they had to take news of the disaster and get help, it was best to move downwards. _

_Kesh and Sherlock decided to go down with Vedant and Partha. But a handful of lost and dazed pilgrims decided they wanted to follow the two striking young men who looked like they were in charge rather than risk another night alone, clueless in the doomed graveyard of the valley. The two rescued children, who had lost their entire families, clung to Sherlock and Kesh. Three able bodied local men, also keen to go down, offered their expertise and guidance. _

So the group gingerly made their way down, through the forest, taking care not to be too much at the edge of the mountain. They walked slowly, helping each other, holding hands, calling out about obstacles ahead. On the way they found other pilgrims, some had clung to the trees at night, entwined their limbs around them, hanging on for dear life all night. The number of the group swelled.

Sherlock and Kesh were in the lead, as they found new paths, warned of dangers, worked out the fragility of the upcoming paths, and led them safely forwards.

Other young men took turns looking after the two children.

Some had lost their footwear, and were starting to form blisters on their feet and this, added to numerous cuts on their feet, made walking difficult. Kesh stopped them, as Sherlock, Kesh, Partha and Vedant took off their shirts, and tore them into strips, tying them around their feet. Women offered to tear their saris as well, modesty forgotten, in the imminent fear of death and uncertainty about the future.

* * *

><p>They had hoped that on reaching Rambara that some structures would still be intact, some packets of food lying around for the hungry group who had eaten nothing since the night before.<p>

Instead they were greeted with a sight of complete annihilation. The entire town was covered with rubble, tops of some houses sticking out. The by now usual sight of dead body parts sticking out of the rubble was evident everywhere. Boulders and pebbles and gravel covered completely what had been a bustling hamlet filled with people, mules, houses. It was as if Rambara never was.

Keeping the rest of the group in the mountains, Sherlock and Kesh decided to move down and inspect the ruins. Food was a serious issue, the cold mountain air posed a serious hypothermia risk. Dusk was falling, the skies slowly getting darker. Finding shelter of any kind was essential.

They reached the open space where Rambara once stood, now covered in rubble. To their left they saw three wild dogs, who upon their approach bared their bloody teeth and growled. They were tearing at an unburied human leg. Even as Sherlock and Kesh froze, they turned their attention back to the leg, tearing huge strips of flesh as they feasted.

To their right a fakir wearing only a loincloth was busy sawing off one arm of a dead woman. Gold bangles were visible at the wrist, and that was presumably his target. Seeing the two men approaching him, he bent the half sawn arm with his strength, to break the bones and took off, disappearing in the mountains with his bounty.

Sherlock and Kesh watched mutely, even as Sherlock murmured thoughtfully, "Who is the animal here, Kesh?" as Kesh shrugged dejectedly.

Suddenly they heard a feeble voice, "Please help me…. please save me…"

They ran hurriedly to peer down the ravine with the fast flowing crazed river below, and saw an old, frail gaunt man. Somehow he had gotten wedged between two rocks on his way down to certain death. Both swung into action, unmindful of their scratches and pain, as Sherlock lay down on the uneven ground to reach out to the old man. Even as Kesh tightened his grip on Sherlock's ankle he anchored himself to another rock. Sherlock pulled the exhausted, frail man up, and upon reaching the ground, he fell to the ground at Sherlock's feet, clutching his ankle as he wept, "You are God himself….you saved me…. you were sent by the Gods to save me…..you are God."

Sherlock bent down to pick the old man up, overwhelmed at the tail end of a long, frightening day, as he put a reassuring arm around his shoulders, and said gently, "You're all right now, we've got you. We'll get you out of here."

"Baba, go over there, go carefully, we will join you soon," said Kesh, pointing towards the forest where the rest of them were huddled, waiting.

Sherlock and Kesh decided to walk around the cliff perimeter, in case there were others who needed rescuing. Sherlock said, "Kesh, we haven't found any food. The children are very hungry. And it is getting quite cold. It will be freezing again tonight, I think."

Kesh agreed, as he looked around helplessly. Dark was falling, there was nothing they could do.

"You look over here, Sherlock, I'll take a look over there. I will yell out if I find anything," said Kesh as he set off towards the far side of the overhanging cliff.

Sherlock kept looking, peering down the slopes, dodging the bigger stones. A few minutes passed as he searched for any survivors or food.

"Sherlock…." Kesh's panicked cry rang out suddenly.

Sherlock's head snapped up, and his heart started thudding in his chest, as he ran, ran as if possessed, effortlessly jumping off rocks, as he recognized the panic in Kesh's voice.

He almost skidded as he reached the narrow ledge, calling out desperately, "Kesh…..Kesh…..answer me…..Kesh…."

"Over here….." came the response, as Sherlock ran and lay down on the ground; he squinted into the growing darkness and saw a sight that froze his blood. Kesh hung at the end of a slim tree trunk as he dangled over the raging river below. He had slipped at the edge, when the earth crumbled away from beneath him and desperately clung to the tree.

"Kesh… Kesh.. hang on, I'm coming to get you," Sherlock shouted frantically, looking around, brain working fiercely, even as he inched more towards the edge.

"No….no, Sherlock…no, please, don't put yourself in danger," Kesh said, voice frightened but firm.

"Are you crazy, Kesh?" asked Sherlock, even as he inched forwards, able to just reach the tree trunk, but not Kesh's hand. "Please, Kesh….hang on….I'm coming for you," Sherlock looked around in panic and urgency, his massive brain computing the options. There was no way the ground would hold him… it was already slipping under him…the river raged below…Kesh would not be able to hold on to the trunk for much longer…the branch was already breaking… it could not hold both their weights… Kesh had another two to three minutes before either the branch broke or his grip slipped….

"No, Sherlock, stay back, you will fall too. I'll try to inch forwards," cried Kesh, even as one hand slipped from the wet slippery branch and he swung precariously above the swollen rapids which seemed to be excitedly leaping up to engulf him.

"No….no, Kesh, no…" Sherlock cried out, as he wildly looked around for something to anchor himself or with which to pull Kesh up. The ground was already sliding under his belly where he lay and desperately tried to reach Kesh. He toyed with the crazy idea of climbing the tree trunk anyways, knowing that it was too fragile to bear both their weights. But the prospect of living on in a world without Kesh, seemed untenable….

"I'm coming, Kesh…" he called out as he inched forwards.

"No, Sherlock….. _no_, stay put," Kesh cried out urgently, even as his grip on the tree trunk was slowly loosening. The two friends looked at each other, and their eyes locked in a moment of clarity. There were _no_ options to save both of them. Kesh said, "I love you, Sherlock."

It suddenly was too much. Sherlock found himself blinking off tears, as he made himself ready to lunge anyways. But first he twisted to face the sky, rain pouring down his face and with a primal roar, yelled out to a God he did not believe in, "NO….YOU DO NOT get to do this…..YOU DO NOT take my Kesh from me…"

Even as he twisted back to Kesh, ready to leap, he felt a strong arm touching him. He looked up to see Partha, stripping his trousers off, as he said, "Sherlock sir, I will lasso this to your legs, you creep down and grab Hrishikesh bhaiyya."

He made a loop out of the trouser leg, and knotted one to Sherlock's ankle, as looking around, he wedged his legs to a boulder base. "Be careful, Partha," said Sherlock, to which Partha replied grimly, "Sir, don't worry. What use is this body, if it can't be used to save Hrishikesh bhaiyya."

"I'm coming Kesh, you have to hold on, just a few seconds longer," said Sherlock as he slid down towards Kesh.

A strong determined arm reached out, as Kesh swung mightily, trying to grab Sherlock's arm. The moment his hand grasped Sherlock's hand, Sherlock gave a triumphant cry, "YES, Kesh….yes, come hold on to me, I've got you," as he expended energy he did not know he possessed, flexing his arm, every muscle screaming, and yet he clung to his friend, his love, his Kesh, as he pulled and pulled. Panting loudly, he inched back, secure in the anchor provided by Partha. An interminable time later, both fell to the ground, gasping aloud with effort and reaction to the stress they had just undergone.

Sherlock twisted his body, to crawl on his hands and knees to Kesh, his Kesh as he held the precious body to his chest and buried his face into Kesh, shaking like a leaf, with reaction. With a visceral cry he let go completely and sobbed, unconcerned about anything except the man in his arms. He cried like a child cries for its mother, like a lover cries for his beloved, like a devotee cries for his God. Between hitches of breath, he managed to gasp out, "Kesh…Kesh… you're safe….almost lost you, Kesh…..don't know what I would have done, Kesh…..cannot live….cannot live without you, Kesh…." He cradled and clutched, and unheeding of Partha, he kissed the beloved face, again and again as he sobbed openly, uninhibited sounds escaping his throat. Partha left them alone, gone silently.

Kesh stroked his hair, as he lay pliantly in Sherlock's trembling arms, as he murmured reassurances, " I'm alright, Sherlock. Shhh….. it's okay, Sherlock….I'm okay….it's okay….everything is alright."

It was a long time before Sherlock reached any semblance of normalcy. Mute, looking at Kesh, kissing him, Sherlock whispered to the God he did not believe in, "Thank you…thank you, thank you."

* * *

><p>Night had fallen, all was dark.<p>

The locals had guided the group to a set of caves, some very small, some larger. At least they would provide some protection against the rain. With chattering teeth and wet clothes, the group divided themselves to take shelter. Random strangers did not shy away from hugging their fellow sufferers, body warmth being the only option for a modicum of comfort.

After having crawled around and tripped over to each cave to ensure that the group was as okay as it could be, Sherlock and Kesh went to a small cave. Sherlock had been silent since coming back to join the group. His face though had glowed with a new found understanding and his eyes had somehow grown brighter. He seemed to have become reenergized as he moved, talking, soothing, helping. His eyes tracked Kesh as he moved around too, instructing Vedant, Partha and some of the other able bodied men.

Sherlock and Kesh settled down on opposite walls of the small cave for a bit, needing time to regroup after a difficult and surreal day. They breathed in tandem, aware of each other and of each other's thoughts, minds in complete harmony.

"Uncle, please can I sleep with you?" a timid voice called out in the dark. The little girl, Sherlock had rescued came into the cave, holding the hand of the younger boy rescued by Kesh.

Both Sherlock's and Kesh's hands shot out instinctively, each grabbing a child and pulling them to their laps. They lacked the courage to ask about the children's family, now was not the time.

The thin, trembling girl sat on Sherlock's lap snuggling her bony body to Sherlock's bare chest as his arms tightened around her and he stroked her hair with one hand. He placed soft kisses on her forehead as his eyes looked up, trying to see Kesh. He was holding the smaller boy close to him as well.

"What is your name, child?" asked Sherlock gently.

"Manjula," she replied. She complained, "I'm hungry. My tummy hurts."

Sherlock looked around helplessly, as a knot formed in his throat and he gulped. With a heavy heart, he pulled some grass from just outside the cave and held it up, to the ongoing rain, to wash the mud off. He held it up to the little girl and said softly, "Here, Manjula. Eat this for now. Tomorrow I will find you some food. Eat this…..it will make your tummy hurt less." The tired girl dutifully chewed on the grass held in Sherlock's hand. He looked up, and saw Kesh mimicking his actions with the little boy.

Kesh reached out a foot, and caressed Sherlock's foot soothingly, as they shared this one more experience at the end of the day from hell.

* * *

><p>Sherlock and Kesh woke up early. After handing over the still sleeping children to Partha and Vedant, they went deeper into the woods to relieve themselves, and have some time alone.<p>

"It has stopped raining, Sherlock. Maybe things will look up today," said Kesh.

Sherlock pulled Kesh to him, holding him close, as he kissed him, loving hands cupping his face, as he rubbed noses, "You're alive. You're with me. I find myself strangely unconcerned about anything else," he said softly. Kesh burrowed his face into Sherlock's neck as they held each other for a bit.

* * *

><p>It was around daybreak that the group stirred and started moving about. The rain had eased off during the night, and for the first time in three days, they saw faded sunlight. It seemed to bring a cheer among the group, after they had successfully negotiated the night.<p>

Then Vedant cried out loudly, "LISTEN!"

Everyone stopped, as they strained to hear what he had indicated.

From afar, but getting louder every second, was the welcome sound of helicopter blades. A huge cheer went through the group, as they hugged each other. They ran, stumbling, skidding to the clearing outside, where Rambara used to be, as they looked up at the skies. The helicopter blades were competing with the sounds of the rapid waters of the still tumultuous river below.

Sherlock and Kesh came running from the woods. They watched as the helicopter passed them by, to make its way up to Kedarnath.

For the next hour, the group watched as every ten minutes a helicopter passed them by. They waved and yelled.

Then a helicopter came closer and hovered over them. There was no place to land, Rambara was covered in rubble, but it came as close to the ground as it dared. The noise became deafening, as a lone man, in an army uniform climbed down a rope and finally jumped to the ground. He was tall, and muscular, wearing sunglasses. He walked forward towards the group.

Sherlock and Kesh walked forward to meet him.

The man observed the two tall, bare chested men, one pale, one dark, as he walked closer. Their gait was regal despite the fact that both wore only torn trousers. He was struck by how the group stayed behind, reminded of reports of stampedes whenever a helicopter had landed in Kedarnath, as hundreds of people fought their way to the chopper. But it seemed that this group had elected these two men as their leaders, and without even a hand gesture to stop them, they seemed to command the group, by their sheer presence.

He neared them, as two pairs of alert intelligent eyes looked back. He ran his eyes over the Caucasian, pale tall, matted curly black hair, imperious although he stood there half naked, flashing blue-gray-green eyes, scratches all over his body, caked blood from some deeper cuts. He looked at the Indian, his eyes widened his recognition, as he almost ran forward and eagerly introduced himself, "Are you….are you Hrishikesh Yadav?" At Kesh's nod, he continue, "Sir, my name is Captain Ajit Malhotra. Sir, it is a privilege to meet you."

After shaking hands, he looked at Sherlock and said in a deferential tone, "Sir, are you Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock nodded and shook his hand as the Captain straightened his back and said, "Sir, your brother, Mr Mycroft Holmes, has sent us. We have come to take you down to Rudraprayag. He is waiting for you."

To be continued…

* * *

><p>The Kedarnath tragedy now called the "Himalayan Tsunami" happened on the 16th and 17th of June 2013. For those interested there are many Youtube videos (though most picture the onrush of water downstream, I don't think anyone in Kedarnath was standing with a video camera!) and before and after satellite images of Kedarnath on Google. Both make compelling viewing and will give you a better idea than my feeble powers of expression.<p>

The cloudburst happened on the evening of the 16th of June. The tsunami was on the morning of the 17th of June. It is thought that the Chaurabari Glacier lake at the foot of the glacier high up in the mountain, had swelled with rain water and glacial melt waters. The wall was breached, resulting in the deafening crack and millions of gallons of water rushed down all at once, carrying with it huge boulders from the glacial moraine bed.

We Indians are notorious at record keeping, no one knows how many died. Figures shift from 10000 to 50000. Having gone to these places during peak season, I believe it is closer to the latter figure.

Apart from shifting the events to a year later, I have tried to stick to the timeline of events. This though, is a fanfiction story, not a geological report, so undoubtedly I have got things wrong. Please excuse them.

For those interested, the Kedarnath temple has reopened for rituals. The trek, more treacherous now, is for 24 kms.

Do consider leaving a comment if you have read this far, and liked anything. It has been a hard and emotional chapter to write. You see, Kedarnath was my favourite place in the world, too….

Finally, I humbly submit this chapter to the feet of Lord Kedarnath, Rudra himself. O fierce one, O _Rudra_, forgive my boldness…..O Auspicious one, O _Shiva_, grant me and the readers of this story, the qualifications for Moksha, so we may make the right efforts and lead a free and happy life, enjoying the world, without being tethered to it….


	16. Nimitta Bhava-Be an instrument

"Sir, your brother, Mr Mycroft Holmes, has sent us. We have come to take you down to Rudraprayag. He is waiting for you," said Captain Malhotra.

Sherlock's eyes widened, even as a small, confident smile made an appearance on his face and he exchanged pleased looks with Kesh. He turned back to Captain Malhotra and nodded gravely, "Please accept my thanks for coming to get me. But, I must insist you take these people first," he gestured to the waiting group behind him. "Kesh and I will follow."

"But….but Sir, my instructions are to bring you and Mr. Yadav down to safety!" said the Captain, looking conflicted as he saw the group of forty men, women and children behind him. He continued, "We can take 4-5 more people with you. But we are severely short of helicopters. As a matter of fact Mr. Mycroft Holmes wanted to personally come in this chopper and look around to assist in locating you. We advised him that he would just be wasting a seat that could be taken up by another stranded victim."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and said in an uncompromising tone, "Your options are to take these people first, or to go back with a chopper without any survivors, Captain."

The Captain shrugged his wide shoulders, and said, "Very well, Mr. Holmes. But I cannot guarantee that we will be allowed to return to this location immediately. There are many more stranded up in Kedarnath, and they are the army's priority. Also more rains are predicted later today, and this may cause rescue efforts to stall. You may have to wait a while."

"So be it. Tell my dear brother that I will come back only once all these people have been airlifted." Sherlock smiled, "I'm certain he will work something out."

Kesh stepped into the exchange for the first time. "Ajit, can you try and contact my friend, Uddhav Sharma? Tell him, I have said to spare no expense. Hire more helicopters if they are available. Bring as many people to safety as you can find. Almost everyone is in need of some medical attention. Once these passengers land, they are to be fed and clothed and looked after till I get there. Just give him this message, he will know what to do."

"Sir, Uddhav is already in place with Mr Mycroft Holmes. They have been working frantically over the last twenty four hours, everything is in place. Doctors, medical equipment, warm clothes, shelter, food to feed an army." He laughed, "Actually they are doing a good job feeding a lot of our boys in the army already."

Sherlock and Kesh nodded their approval as they turned back and walked to the group. A jubilant anticipation was present among the people. Many were mentally congratulating themselves for having chosen to follow this pair of men, instead of waiting at Kedarnath.

An order was decided upon. Manjula and the little boy named Subin, the old man they had rescued, some other elderly folks and the women would be airlifted first. They would be followed by the men. Sherlock, Kesh, Vedant and Partha would join the last set. While they were busy, the Captain went closer to the helicopter and gestured. Three large canvas bags were dropped which he and Partha pulled closer to the group.

"Sir, in these bags are some warm clothes, food, water and some basic medical supplies. If we are allowed to come back after dropping the first lot of passengers, we can bring more. Please be ready for us," he said.

A rope ladder was dropped from the helicopter as the first lot of passengers made their way to it. Manjula held on to Sherlock's hand, while Subin was with Kesh. As they were being assisted up, Manjula clutched Sherlock's hand desperately, and said, "Please uncle, please come with me." Giving her a reassuring hug Sherlock said, voice thick with emotion, "I will follow close behind, Manjula. Go, child. There will be real food waiting for you and Subin." He put one hand gently over her head before letting her go.

* * *

><p>The loud din of the helicopter blades was deafening as it landed on Rudraprayag's only helipad. Army personnel were everywhere, assisting the survivors to the waiting buses, taking them to make-shift shelters in the town.<p>

_It had been an emotional trip back for the last lot of six men, Sherlock, Kesh, Vedant, Partha and two other locals. It had started to drizzle again and the sturdy helicopter swayed slightly in the mountain breeze as it flew. The scene of devastation through the narrow valley and the deep gorges carved out by the river was mind numbing. Rubble had extended down almost to Gaurikund, but fortunately only some of the large stones had reached it. The town had been severely affected by the oncoming water though, many buildings had been cut into half or uprooted. The men had seen so much devastation, in so short a time, that it was getting hard to compute the loss of life and property. _

Sherlock stepped over the metal footrest on the outside of the helicopter, before jumping off. He ducked his head as he walked forward. About to turn around to wait for Kesh and the others, his vision was obscured by a blur of red which flashed past him and directly into the arms of the just descended Kesh. Meera wearing a red sari, clung to Kesh, her face buried into his chest, arms tightly clutching him as she sobbed, "Bhaiyya…..bhaiyya, you are back. We were losing our minds. We wanted to run up to Kedarnath after you. We were so…." her sobs became uncontrollable and she could not speak anymore.

Kesh consoled her, running his hand over her head, even as Uddhav stepped forward and gave Sherlock an emotional hug, unable to speak due to his relief. As Uddhav stepped forward to meet Kesh, Partha and Vedant came out of the helicopter and their wives and children ran to have an emotional reunion. Everyone was informed about Haridas's death, which led to a shocked outpouring of grief.

Sherlock pulled his eyes away from all these people, and his bright eyes scanned the remainder of the helipad, searching.

The tall, lone figure of a stoic looking Mycroft Holmes stood afar, watching everything unfold. As Sherlock strode up to him, they noted each other's appearance. Sherlock noted Mycroft, who looked like he had aged ten years, white stubble, rolled up shirt sleeves, hair mussed, a faint glimmer of tears in his eyes along with love and relief. Mycroft noted Sherlock, wearing torn trousers only, confident and eager stride, alert eyes from which intelligence and insight spilled equally. He could not remember the last time he had felt this overwhelmed.

As Sherlock neared, Mycroft swayed slightly towards him and Sherlock was just in time to catch the sagging, relieved figure of his brother into his strong arms. They hugged, both equally not given to exhibiting this much emotion, but all was forgotten in this moment of reunion, masks off, as they held each other for several seconds.

Mycroft drew back, and sniffed mildly as he looked into Sherlock's eyes. He raised one hand to touch his brother's face and said, voice emotional, "I thought I had lost you…." And Sherlock responded, his smile pressing against Mycroft's hand, "I knew you would come….."

Sherlock turned around and looked, wanting to catch Kesh's eye, eager to introduce him to Mycroft. Kesh stood surrounded by people as usual, talking, gesturing. Mycroft followed Sherlock's gaze to Kesh, just as Kesh smiled and started walking up to them. Mycroft straightened, a warm welcome in his eyes, as he set his eyes for the first time, on the man who loved his brother, on the man who had saved his brother and looked after him when he was sick and provided emotional comfort when he was at his lowest, on the man who his brother described as _extraordinary_, on the man about whom he had heard so much in the twenty four hours he had been in Rudraprayag.

As Kesh neared, smiling, dimples carving deep grooves on his cheeks, eyes twinkling with pleasure at seeing Sherlock's brother, Mycroft extended his hand for a handshake. He was taken aback at finding himself engulfed in a warm embrace, but recovered quickly to hug Kesh back with enthusiasm. Sherlock said, pride and delight dripping from his voice, "Mycroft, this is Kesh. Kesh, meet my brother."

Even as the three men stood talking, Uddhav walked up to them with shirts in his hands saying, "Hrishikesh, Sherlock, I have made arrangements for all of you to go home first. There is a medical team waiting there to tend to these bruises and scratches that all of you have. You can have some food and rest."

Mycroft watched, as Sherlock and Kesh looked at each other, a lightening quick silent communication sparked between their eyes, and they turned back to Uddhav as one. Kesh said, "We would prefer to go where everyone is, the people in our group, the children. We would like to see them first. And anyone else you are taking care of. There will be more on the way, Uddhav. Have we made some arrangements to look after a lot of people? Perhaps, we can ask Mr Rathod if we can use the school building. It is still school holidays after all."

Uddhav looked sad, as he informed everyone, "Hrishikesh, the school building does not exist anymore. It was swept away in the floods." Sherlock took a deep breath, glancing at Kesh, before turning back to Uddhav. He said, "Well, what is, _is_. What other options are available to us?"

Mycroft and Uddhav started filling in Sherlock and Kesh, as the whole group walked up to the cars waiting for them. There was a marriage hall close to the school, where Uddhav had gotten married, which had thrown its doors open. There was the old people's home founded by Kesh, which had relocated furniture to make space for maximum people. The kitchen facilities at both places were already functional and equipped to deal with the influx. The hospital which Kesh had helped build, had ambulances, doctors, nurses and medical supplies on standby.

Kesh nodded approvingly, as he climbed into the car, "Lets go to where the children and the group we spent the night with, are. We will eat once we get there."

* * *

><p>As the men walked into the marriage hall, which housed the survivors, Manjula and Subin came running shouting, "Uncle, uncle…"<p>

Mycroft watched as a thin, young girl launched herself into Sherlock's waiting arms, as he knelt down to hug her and ask, "Manjula, have you eaten, child? Tell me what did you eat?" as he gently kissed her forehead and listened to her answers patiently. Subin snuggled to Kesh, as the two men talked to the children, generous with their touches and reassuring voices. Mycroft looked in wonder, trying to think of a time, when he had seen Sherlock cuddle a child. _Who are you and what have you done with my brother?_

The entire group that they had been with stepped forward and engulfed Sherlock and Kesh, some thanking them, some telling them about their trip down, all wanting to be close to their two saviours. They had had food, and wounds had been bandaged.

Sherlock looked around and noted the hall and saw the crowds gathered there. Mattresses had been laid in a line, to allow people to rest, blankets in plentiful supply. Many of Kesh's friends were there, well known to Sherlock since the wedding. They paused for a while to greet Kesh and Sherlock and welcome them back, before leaving again to their tasks. Most were talking to individual survivors to get the contact details of family and friends, offering their mobiles to make contact. Some were shepherding people towards food or medical attention. Meera had taken over care of the elderly folks, talking and reassuring, in her own no-nonsense way.

Sonali, Vedant's wife and Uddhav's mother had taken over the care of ten surviving children without families, assisted by Mahesh (Meera's little brother) and Vinod (Vedant's son) who had come there with their toys and books. Partha, Vedant, Shankar, indeed all of Kesh's staff was there, carrying things, running out to buy rations, driving people to the shelters, following Sherlock and Kesh's instructions.

Slowly the mountain tribal folk from around Harsil began to trickle in. They arrived after hours of travel, having begged for lifts from passing buses and hiked for a lot of the way. They had come because the call had gone out that Hrishikesh bhaiyya was lost in Kedarnath, and they were determined to go and search and help. It was a spontaneous outpouring of love for the man who had helped them so much. Once they saw Kesh and Sherlock and reassured themselves, they offered to hike up anyways along with the army folk, to guide, to help. Strategies were discussed to use them and their expertise in the best way. Come the next day, they would leave with backpacks of food and clothing, and search for folks stranded in the mountains, where helicopters would not be able to spot them.

Mycroft observed, pride and joy in his eyes, his brother walk around among the survivors, bending down to touch a shoulder _here_, squatting down as he listened patiently to a crying human talk about their loss _there_. He observed as people approached Sherlock to ask for help, to ask for what tasks to do next. Kesh was doing the same, even busier as all the volunteers seemed to know him.

He thought of the Sherlock he had known just two months ago, lonely and aloof in his trademark Belstaff coat, imperious and short in his dealings with everyone, brilliant beautiful eyes hiding a deep discontent and sorrow. He tried to reconcile that image with the man in front of him now, the thin young girl leaning over his shoulder, as he talked to a survivor about his ordeal and gave instructions in his deep baritone to the waiting Partha. Still his brilliant brother, but with an added layer of _something…_..empathy?...,compassion?.._...love? _thought Mycroft hopefully.

Mycroft noted how aware Sherlock and Kesh were of each other, each glancing at the other every couple of minutes. He watched silently, savouring their survival and their obvious connection. He was jerked out of his reverie, as an old man walked up to him, hands folded in Namaste, as he said in a trembling voice, "Please help me call my brother. I have the number with me." Hastily Mycroft removed his mobile from his pocket, and dialed the number, eager to help as well, as he said, "Of course."

* * *

><p>Sherlock walked into the large outdoor area with cooking facilities at around five in the evening, looking for Kesh. Kesh was sitting on a chair, as he talked to Uddhav and Meera, talking about Haridas. Everyone's eyes had tears, as they listened to Kesh. Sherlock softened his approach, as he observed his Kesh struggling to keep it together, voice breaking with emotion. They looked up at Sherlock helplessly, grief evident in their expressions. Sherlock gently knelt in front of his friend and looked, as Kesh hugged him, burying his face into Sherlock's shoulder as he finally let go and allowed sobs to rack his body, hands clutching at Sherlock's shirt, saying, "Now I have no elders left, Sherlock…..I have no one who I can go to as a child." Sherlock held him, stroking his hair, whispering in his ear.<p>

They left the two men alone for some time.

* * *

><p>It was past ten at night, when Mycroft, Sherlock, Kesh and Uddhav finally sat down to have dinner at the old people's home. Most of the elderly folk had been relocated here, because of better facilities to look after them, walking sticks, age appropriate toilets and of course the company of other older people. Many had successfully contacted their extended families or friend's who were now on their way to collect them. Some who had no one left were offered an extended stay in the home, while options were explored. It was harder to get details from the displaced children, but efforts were on in trying to search for their families.<p>

As the four men were served dinner by Meera and Sonali, Sherlock and Kesh took turns filling Mycroft and Uddhav with the horrifying details of the tragedy that had unfolded at Kedarnath. Though all four men were tired, no one wanted to separate for a rest and give up a connection they had feared they had lost. Moved by the stories of loss of entire families and the lamenting that had gone on all day, they felt they needed their closeness to fill them with a renewed enthusiasm to face the challenges ahead.

Media, photographers and reporters were swarming around in Rudraprayag. They had set up help lines, and were trying to connect the families and inform the world about the unique disaster. Army vehicles were everywhere, diligently and efficiently planning and executing rescue operations. Many dropped in at the marriage hall and old people's home, to have a hot meal, as they worked. News had filtered in of an army rescue helicopter which had crashed into the mountains during a rescue mission, news that was greated with shock and sadness that resonated throughout the country. Aid was flowing in from ordinary citizens, politicians were forced to wake up from their stance of ennui as the media focused increasingly on the political response. The population of Rudraprayag was swelling by the minute, as searching families came there, looking for their loved ones, holding photographs, and stopping random strangers, asking in hopeful tones, "Bhaiyya, have you seen this man/woman/child?"

As Kesh did a final round of the survivors and talked to Uddhav and other volunteers, Sherlock sat with Mycroft in the first moment of silence that day, looking at Kesh. After a long period of silence, Mycroft finally said with awe, "_How many_ friends does this man have? Sherlock, I have been hearing stories about him since yesterday. Who he is, what he does, how he helps every one. If I had not heard and seen it, I would not have believed it!"

Sherlock smiled softly as he replied, "Mycroft, the whole world is his friend. _Believe_ it. Because he does nothing for himself, only pours his efforts out into the universe selflessly. Kesh says, the universe will decide what needs to happen and when it needs to happen. It presents the action it demands of you by putting you into a situation. You are an instrument only, be the sharpest and best instrument you can be."

There was a pause as Mycroft reflected on this extraordinary vision of the world. His contemplation was interrupted after some time, by Sherlock saying, wonder in his voice, "And he loves _me_, Mycroft. He is _my Kesh_. Completely and totally mine. I find it unbelievable."

Mycroft responded with a smile, "I never thought I would say this to _you_. I always thought it would be the other way around. But Sherlock, _you _are a lucky man." He squeezed Sherlock's arm with affection while looking at him intently, "And the question you now need to ask yourself is this; Are you his?" Sherlock looked at him for a long time, expression thoughtful, before swinging his gaze back to Kesh.

* * *

><p>It was close to midnight by the time Vedant dropped Mycroft, Sherlock and Kesh home. Uddhav was at the marriage hall with many of Kesh's friends and Partha. Sonali had taken the children to Partha's house for the night. Meera was at the old people's home, looking after the elderly folk along with other staff.<p>

The house seemed even more empty without Haridas. Sherlock and Kesh stood looking into the kitchen, as they let their memories of Haridas flood them again. Mycroft stood silently watching them.

Eventually, Kesh said, "Mycroft, I am sorry I did not have enough time to talk to you today. I know you understand." Mycroft smiled warmly as he said, "You were busy, Kesh. All of us were busy. I will be here for another couple of days, we will have time to talk I'm sure. I am _so_ looking forward to it."

Kesh smiled back as he nodded, "Me too. Most eagerly." He gestured up the stairs, "You and Sherlock can sleep in his room, it is on the second floor."

Even as Mycroft opened his mouth to respond, Sherlock said, "I will be sleeping in Kesh's bedroom, Mycroft." Turning to Kesh, he smiled reassuringly, "It's alright Kesh."

Looking back at Mycroft he continued, "Come with me, My, I'll show you your room. You haven't slept for two days. You need to rest."

* * *

><p>Sherlock ran his fingers over Kesh's face, as they lay, silently looking at each other. Kesh said softly, eyes heavy with sleep, "So much, Sherlock….so much. In such a short time, so much has happened. Just three days ago, we were on this bed without any inkling of all the disaster that will unfold. All those people…. lives lost, livelihoods lost, children orphaned, entire families gone…..so much…."<p>

Sherlock took a deep breath and whispered, "Things can change so quickly, what is one to do, except try to adjust and respond? We did well, Kesh….given the circumstances, we did what we had to…..we did well, Kesh. I am so proud of us…..you're alive….we are together…..that is a miracle….." He stroked Kesh's hair as he talked, watching as his friend's eyes slowly closed. He kept stroking and touching for a long while looking thoughtfully at Kesh's face, before he too succumbed to sleep.

To be continued…..


	17. Shraddha-Faith

It was six thirty in the morning, when Mycroft finally awakened from a dreamless, refreshing sleep, to the sounds of dozens of birds chirping and fighting on the terrace outside his room. A hazy sunlight filtered through the translucent cream curtains, casting a golden glow in the room and on his bed. He blinked and looked around, before he remembered …..India …Rudraprayag ….Kedarnath …..Kesh …. Sherlock.

He sat up, alert and feeling mentally relaxed and ready. Quickly putting on fresh trousers and a shirt, he opened his bedroom door and silently went down the steps following the noises coming from the kitchen. Kesh was awake, showered and dressed, making tea. He greeted Mycroft with a smile, "Good morning, Mycroft. I hope you slept well! Would you like to have some tea as well? Sherlock is still sleeping, I'm afraid."

Mycroft smiled and nodded, "Tea would be lovely, thank you Kesh. I was wondering, is it possible to have it in the garden? It is such a beautiful day. I am thankful it isn't raining today."

"Of course, yes. And yes, it will make the army's work that much easier. I'll leave in some time, Sherlock and you can come when you are ready. Or if you prefer to spend some time with each other, that's okay too, because there are already a lot of people hard at work. It will be fine."

* * *

><p>Mycroft gave a deep appreciative sigh as he put his cup of tea down on the garden table and leant back on his armchair.<p>

"That was truly excellent, thank you, Kesh," he remarked.

Kesh smiled, "Haridas taught me how to make chai tea just right. He would normally be hovering around here, cheerfully serving us himself." He looked around, as if waiting for Haridas to appear from somewhere, looking a bit lost, a small frown on his forehead.

Mycroft said gently, "You lost your parents suddenly when you were young, isn't it, Kesh?"

Kesh's brown eyes turned to Mycroft and he replied softly, "Yes."

Mycroft ran his eyes over Kesh assessingly, as he thought.

_I want to talk to him about Sherlock. I don't think my usual skillful leading of the conversation and subtle intimidation techniques are appropriate here. He is a straightforward man. He loves Sherlock, but I wonder if he even realizes what Sherlock is, whether he realizes what Sherlock is like in London. I want him to talk to me, to assure me about his feelings, his intentions towards my brother…_

Aloud, he said, "Sherlock and I had a very good childhood. It is a blessing. As you perhaps already know, our parents are still alive. They are good loving parents. And Sherlock of course has had me to look after him as well. In that sense, he has lead a sheltered life uptil now."

Kesh looked at him intently for a few seconds, and then gesturing towards the out gate, asked, "There is a beautiful path through the woods, that goes to the top of this hill. It is an hour's walk altogether and you can get a lovely view of Rudraprayag. Would you like to go for a walk while we talk?"

Mycroft nodded, "That would be a capital idea!"

They commenced walking in silence, hands in their pockets, breathing in the fresh mountain air and wet earth, made more so by plentiful rain, listening to the birds as they chirped and cooed.

After some time, Mycroft said, "Sherlock was an extraordinary child, as you can imagine, Kesh. Absolutely terrifyingly brilliant, devouring all avenues of knowledge in his urge to _know_, curious and innocent in many ways. We were each other's friends, supports, confidants. We never felt the need to associate with lesser minds, quite content to be in each other's company."

Kesh interjected, "You must have been lonely till he came along, Mycroft."

"Yes, yes I was," answered Mycroft softly. "When he came along, it was like meeting an alter ego, except he was so much better in every way. Capable of so much more than I could ever be."

They walked some more, Kesh reflecting on what was being said, and that which was being left unsaid.

After some time, Mycroft continued, "Then he went to college, and things were a bit _difficult_ for some time. There was a period of experimentation, with sex, with drugs. He was never really addicted to either, it was curiosity and boredom. A wild period, but mercifully short, only a couple of years."

Mycroft glanced quickly at Kesh to see how he was taking all this. Kesh looked thoughtful but unperturbed.

Mycroft took a deep breath as he continued, "After college, as a young man with an intellect, head and shoulders above the rest of humanity and a mind that could get easily bored, he came upon a crime scene. Lestrade was the young police officer there, to whom Sherlock handed over the criminal using only his powers of observation and deduction. The rest is history. Sherlock changed after that. He became ….almost an ascetic, living on the high of his intellectual prowess alone, shunning company of tedious people. He poured himself into the _Work_, using both the violin and occasional cocaine to ward off boredom, when he felt unchallenged…..And then John Watson happened to him."

They had arrived at the summit, and Kesh gestured to old rickety wooden chairs upon which they seated themselves, taking in the view of Rudraprayag, the still fast flowing swollen waters of the river and the surrounding mountains

"John Watson was a middle aged army doctor, discharged from active duty due to a war injury, living on an army pension. He was a loner, without any friends or supportive family, without any prospects, suffering from PTSD, trust issues and suicidal ideation. Chance brought them together. John suddenly found himself caught up in the whirlwind that was life with Sherlock, with endless excitement and intrigue, mortal danger and a chance to fight crime. He latched on to it fiercely. Sherlock found himself a friend who idolized him, praised his brilliance and followed him everywhere. It was an exhilarating time of his life. Do you know about Moriarty and Irene Adler?" asked Mycroft turning to Kesh.

Kesh nodded.

"In a span of eighteen months, John had become very important to Sherlock, enough to make him want to jump off a building and hunt down every last bit of Moriarty's network for two years, undergo torture, cold exposure, homelessness, mortal danger. You have seen the horrific scars on his back?" asked Mycroft. Kesh nodded but kept quiet.

Mycroft continued, "Of course, he partly did it for the thrill of the chase and because he _is_ an obstinate man. But it was more for his friends, more for John. He came back after two years, and was punched in the mouth for his trouble, was introduced to John's betrothed, became best man at his wedding, was shot by Mary, and in turn shot Magnussen; all to ensure a safe and happy life for John and Mary. Everything he has done for the past few years, in one way or another, has been for John, as a response to his infatuation for John. John Watson is a good man, don't get me wrong. He was a good friend to Sherlock, loyal and tenacious. But there are _many _good men, there is _only one_ Sherlock Holmes. He could never really be all that Sherlock needed him to be, certainly he could _never_ be an adequate life partner for Sherlock."

Kesh observed Mycroft, the clenched jaw, the fists curled tight, the narrowed eyes, as he spoke, but kept silent.

After a long pause, Mycroft said quietly, "And then he came to you." He turned to face Kesh, and looked with a soft gaze as he said, "In his darkest moment, he turned to _you_. I know very little about what happened when you looked after him last year. I know a little about his visit this time."

Mycroft stood up, and walked around the clearing for a bit, gathering himself for what he had to say next.

He faced Kesh, for once without any mask, any attempt at diplomacy, wanting to be understood, wanting to communicate his emotions without any pretense. "Kesh, the reason for my preamble was not to betray Sherlock's confidence. In any case, I cannot imagine that there is anything about him that you do not already know. But I am struggling to find the words to describe the sheer _enormity_ of Sherlock. It is like trying to draw a word picture of an exploding star, a _supernova_, trying to find the words which do justice to the grandeur, the beauty, the awesome force of nature. In many ways it is a futile effort." Kesh smiled and nodded.

Mycroft took a deep breath, "Sherlock is...Sherlock is not a nice man, Kesh. He can be abrasive, he has little patience with fools and their folly, he can be self centred and egoistical. He does not concern himself with rules, societal norms and other such trivialities." Mycroft leaned forward and set earnest eyes on Kesh, "The people who surround him in London do not really know him. They see the beauty of the body and want to mate it. They experience the formidable intellect and are either in awe and intimidated or use that intellect for their purposes. They experience his disdain and brusque behaviour and resent him for reminding them how limited they are….. But Kesh, he is a great man. He is honourable, perceptive, he has a keen sense of justice, he is kind in his own way. And he is also a man with a capacity for deep love, intense passion."

The two men held each other's gaze, both exceptionally perceptive in their own way, and effortlessly reading between the words, aware of the profundity of their conversation.

Mycroft continued, "I know he doesn't seem to have made up his mind. I assure you it is not prevarication or hesitation. He is a creature of intellect and logic, he will find it impossible to make a commitment until his rational analytical brain is satisfied. I assure you, that if he decides to commit, it will not be a frivolous decision….I _know_ he has not been in an intimate relationship for years, since college in fact….. Kesh, I fervently hope… it is my _dearest_ wish to see the two of you together…. I know that in you, Sherlock has found someone who is worthy of him….."

Mycroft sighed softly as he bowed his head for a while, before looking back at Kesh, "I have looked after and worried about my brother for so long…..I know he is not a child, but it is hard from my perspective …..Sometimes I feel like I have been given a priceless natural treasure that I need to care for, whom I need to guard…..and now I have met you….. I don't feel alone anymore. For the first time I feel I've met someone who can take over, who will care and love Sherlock, who will cherish and appreciate him for who and _what_ he is…I know you are waiting for his decision. Kesh, can I ask that you wait for as long as it takes? That you do not give up on him?"

Having stated all that he wished for and all that he feared, Mycroft fell silent, and looked at Kesh intently.

Kesh, who had stayed silent and watchful during Mycroft's monologue, smiled warmly.

He said gently, "I am so glad we had this conversation." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his spread legs, eyes intent on Mycroft. "Everyone looks up to me out here, Mycroft. There is no one I can talk to about how I feel, what I want."

Mycroft inclined his head slightly, as relief started flooding his eyes. Kesh continued, "Mycroft, I met your brother last year, when he was recovering from surgery and had collapsed at Rishikesh. I brought him home so that I could care for him. I was…I was _mesmerized _straightaway. With his beauty, with his obvious staggering intelligence, his character, his sheer _presence_. I could not believe… I still cannot believe that someone like him exists."

Kesh blushed a bit, as he looked down for a few seconds, before looking at Mycroft again. He said softly without a shred of guile, "I love him, Mycroft. I love him so much. I have placed my heart, my soul, my body, my being in his hands. For him to do with as he pleases. Whatever he may decide, I belong to him. If he chooses to give me the gift of his heart, his love….. I cannot even imagine a more precious thing in this world. I will guard it, cherish it, treasure it, and him… If he chooses to live without me I will continue to love him, always. I will always be his friend. I will always wait for him. Please know that I speak the truth, that I am speaking from my heart."

Mycroft watched Kesh's face as he spoke, joyful and overwhelmed. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, replaying the words in his mind, smile growing wider. Kesh sat patiently after falling quiet, watching the play of emotions on Mycroft's face, his own eyes full of understanding. After a couple of minutes, Mycroft stood up and placed his hand on Kesh's shoulder with a beam on his face, trying to contain himself.

"Kesh, you have said exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you…Thank you." Kesh smiled back, as Mycroft continued, "I leave later today. It is possible, you will be busy with all the work you have to do. I may be unable to say a proper good bye to you. But I am very hopeful of seeing you in London soon. Do you think that is likely?"

Kesh smiled, eyes twinkling, "Before we went to Kedarnath, I wasn't sure. But it is looking increasingly likely, Mycroft." His tone became wistful as he continued with a faraway look in his eyes, "I have dreamed…. Dreamed of seeing Sherlock in London, watch him making deductions at crime scenes ….see him in his natural milieu."

"Oh Kesh…..he is like a force of nature. Quite something to behold, I assure you!"

* * *

><p>Sherlock, Kesh, Mycroft and Uddhav stood around in a circle discussing about the people stranded at the old people's home and the marriage hall, tallying whose relatives had been traced, and what efforts could be made for the rest.<p>

Rescue efforts were ongoing and the place was a beehive of activity, with stranded survivors and families looking for lost ones. The volunteers, Kesh's friends, everyone had come in full force and were filled with enthusiasm for what needed to be done. Things were less chaotic and more organized now, with tasks divided. A steady stream of people approached Uddhav or Kesh or Sherlock to ask for advice, instructions or simply share the progress of their efforts.

Mr Rathod came to meet them, to lend his services. They talked about the sudden floods, how the school building had collapsed and was swept away by the ferocity of the water.

"Sherlock Sir, I have brought something for you," said Mr Rathod, the school principal, in a somber voice, as he reached inside his bag and removed a piece of cloth wrapped around something.

Sherlock accepted the cloth parcel, brow furrowed and opened it. It held a piece of the school wall, about the size of a book, the brown paint depicting part of a violin still vital and beautiful.

"_Uncle, what are you painting?" asked the young girl of about ten, peering wide eyed at the pale man, paint brush in hand, meticulously applying paint on the internal wall of the ground floor classroom._

"_It is a violin. You did tell me this is going to be your music room, I thought it would be fitting if we painted some musical instruments on the walls. It will look cheerful and may inspire all of you."_

"_A vi-o-lin. We don't know this instrument. Is it from where you live?" she inquired innocently._

"_Yes. Yes, it is. Would you like to see one?"_

_Nodding eagerly, she called some of her mates, "This uncle is going to show us a new instrument. It is called vi-o-lin. He has one!"_

_Sherlock smiled, "I could actually play for you when your school officially opens. How does that sound?"_

_The children laughed and spontaneously cheered excitedly. _

Sherlock ran delicate fingers over the small intact piece of a memory, over the violin he had painted, made to resemble the violin Kesh had. Everyone looked wordlessly, as they absorbed one more dream that had been swept away in the disaster.

Kesh touched Mr Rathod's shoulder reassuringly, "We will build a new school. We will figure out where the children can have their lessons in the meantime. Don't worry, Mr Rathod, everything will be okay eventually."

"When we have you with us, Hrishikesh bhaiyya, what can go wrong? Why should we worry?" answered Mr Rathod, with a relieved smile.

* * *

><p>Meera and Sonali came up to the men, while they were having lunch at the marriage hall. Meera was smiling as she said to Kesh, "Bhaiyya, we managed to contact Subin's relatives. We spoke to his father's brother some time ago. He is from Ahmedabad. Subin had come with his family for the Char Dham Yatra. Of course, we don't know what happened to his parents and sister. He says they had gone for a walk to see the crazed river, when everything happened suddenly. He only remembers clutching to the bridge, when you came and saved him…..Anyway, his uncle is coming to get him. He should be here by tomorrow."<p>

Sonali chipped in, "We have managed to locate the family members for most of the children except Manjula."

Uddhav said, "Hrishikesh, if it is alright with you, Meera and I would like to look after Manjula while we keep looking for her relatives. She says she is from a village near Gaurikund, her father was a pitthuwala. I have sent two men from Harsil with as much detail as she could give us to search for her family. Let us wait and see."

Kesh nodded, "Yes, I think Meera would be the right person to look after her right now. If we can't find her family, we will work something out, I'm sure."

* * *

><p>"I must take your leave, Kesh," said Mycroft, slightly inclining his head, tone warm and gracious. "Sherlock and I will go to your house, pick up my suitcases and Vedant will drop us to the helipad. I have arranged for a chopper to take me to Dehradun airport and have connecting flights all the way to London. I am sorry I cannot stay for longer, but there are many commitments that await my attention….. I cannot begin to describe how deeply pleased I have been to meet you."<p>

Kesh smiled as he stepped forward, "The pleasure and privilege is all mine, Mycroft. Hopefully we will meet again, soon." The two men hugged each other and then shook hands.

Turning to Uddhav, Mycroft said, "Uddhav, thank you for everything you did to help find my brother. If I may extend an invitation? It would please me enormously if you and your charming wife consider visiting me in London. I would love to show you around."

Uddhav smiled and said, "Thank you. Let us all wait and see what God has in store for us." They shook hands and exchanged good byes again before leaving.

* * *

><p>Sherlock stood next to the bed, on the second floor bedroom, folding Mycroft's clothes and packing them into the suitcase. Mycroft had just gone to take a shower prior to departure.<p>

Sherlock looked up as a timid knock sounded on the open door. Meera stood there, an envelope in her hand, eyes wide with diffidence, expression nervous. Sherlock gave a small smile as he said, "Come in, Meera. How can I help you?"

She advanced into the room and stood a few feet away, hand extending the envelope to Sherlock wordlessly. He quirked one eyebrow inquiringly as he accepted it. Opening it, he removed a page from within— a one way Business Class, e-ticket for his British Airways flight to London in three days.

He stared at the ticket, eyes unfocussed. "Sherlock Sir…" Meera began with a croaking hesitant tone. She paused as Sherlock looked up at her, eyes narrowed. She cleared her throat and repeated, "Sherlock Sir, I have something to say."

Sherlock waved towards the chair, "Have a seat, Meera. What's on your mind?"

Her hands fidgeted with the border of her sari, as she seemed to be searching for the courage to speak. She found it hard to stand still under Sherlock's penetrating focused gaze. She took a deep breath, and looking down she said, "Sherlock Sir, I am aware I am not qualified enough to speak to you. I am a simple, uneducated village girl. And Uddhav says you are the most intelligent man in the whole world…." She stole a quick glance at Sherlock before looking down again, "More than that… you are the man, Hrishikesh bhaiyya loves. Bhaiyya is the greatest man alive. It makes me shiver…..it makes me nervous to think that I am daring to talk like this to the man _he_ loves. Forgive my boldness, Sherlock Sir."

She stole another quick glance to meet the verdigris eyes narrowed like a laser beam set on her. Sherlock noted the slight tremor in her hands as she twisted the border of her sari again , the pulse-point wildly beating in her neck, her teeth as they bit into her lower lip. He gave her an encouraging nod, silently asking her to continue. She said haltingly, "Sherlock Sir, I know it is not my place to say this, but….. Uddhav said the last time you left, Hrishikesh bhaiyya was very sad, he stopped talking….. he is a good man, a great man… please, can you consider staying here with him, or taking him with you to London? I am sure he will make you happy…. he makes everyone happy…. he is a good man….. he will not be a bother, I'm sure….. he won't get in your way….you won't regret it, Sherlock Sir…."

Her voice rose in her effort to convince him. She stepped forward and stood in front of Sherlock, palms folded in front of her chest, as she begged, "Please….. please, Sherlock Sir, do not reject my brother's love…"

Sherlock watched incredulously, as the young woman dropped to her knees with a bowed head, as soft feminine hands touched his bare feet and as Meera pleaded, "Please Sir, I beg you, do not reject my brother…." He stood still like a statue, eyes staring in wonder at the picture of total submission at his feet. It was a few seconds before he emerged from his daze and raised his right hand and put it gently on her head, and said in a husky voice, "Meera…."

His deep voice seemed to break some kind of spell, as Meera slowly stood up and looked at Sherlock, a stricken expression on her face, eyes widened in panic, as she whispered, "Sorry, I'm so sorry, Sherlock Sir….it is not my place….. it was just an impulse….. I overstepped…..please don't tell Uddhav…please don't tell Bhaiyya. I'm so sorry….." so saying she ran out of the bedroom.

* * *

><p>Mycroft emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, to find Sherlock standing out on the terrace, looking whimsically at the mountains, a gentle smile on his face. He raised his eyebrows as he saw the flight tickets on the bed, fluttering in the wind.<p>

He dressed quickly and joined Sherlock outside. He sat on the divan to wear his socks, as Sherlock remained silent. Mycroft leaned back on the divan, waiting, watchful.

After several seconds, Sherlock spoke. "I came here a year ago, Mycroft. In bad shape, both physically and emotionally. I had been on the run for close to two years. I was tired, I was homesick, I missed London, John, my old life. I felt I was chasing ghosts, Moriarty's web was so vast and so intricate. I did not know what awaited me upon my return to London. I had hoped, that John would fall into my arms with love, with gratitude. After all, I had risked everything for him. Given up the _Work_. Given up London."

Sherlock turned to face Mycroft, eyes gone soft in reminiscence. "Kesh… I kept nothing from Kesh. Told him everything. Even then, something in me trusted him completely… It was obvious straightaway that he had fallen in love, _hard_…obvious that he desired me, would have done anything for me. I was tempted….. to _take_. It had been so long… I needed the affirmation he could provide….. that I was worth something. He tended to me with devotion, healed me physically and mentally. We used to talk for hours, as if we had known each other for years. He knew his place in my life….. he did not stop me from leaving."

Sherlock spread his arms as he said, "Mycroft, for one whole year, he waited….. in silence….._never _attempted to contact me….he is a man of means, he never chose to come to London, to ask for my friendship, my regard. Just lived with his love… and waited in hope."

Mycroft looked, eyes narrowed, as Sherlock smiled softly and turned away again, speaking almost to himself, "I came to him again. Kesh is the person I thought of, when I felt things could not continue the way they were… I was struggling in London. John had emphatically _not_ fallen into my arms. I meant nothing to him, apart from a friend who provided him with excitement, one among many new friends. He had grieved for some time and then found himself a new love. My, he did not _once_ ask me what happened in the two years I was away. So preoccupied was he with his own righteous fury at a perceived betrayal of his trust, that he did not _see_ anything. I had slid down in his list of priorities- he got married, about to have a baby, in love with the dream of a house in suburbia and a picket fence. I was a side-show, someone he turned to when things got tedious, he tolerated me as long as I fit into his life."

Sherlock turned and walked towards Mycroft. He sat on the ground in front of his brother, one hand on Mycroft's knee, looking up, as he continued, "Within two days of my coming to India, I told Kesh everything. It was as if I could not hide anything from him. It was obvious he was still in love with me. He never hid it. It would have been so easy for him, to respond with a superfluous pseudo-validation using some form of psychological drivel. And then present _himself_ as an alternative. But Kesh didn't do that….. Mycroft, he reached inside me and _pulled out_ the grief, the anger, the frustration that had grown such deep roots in my psyche. He did it mercilessly, fundamentally, completely. He shook me up...He was aware that he could lose me forever, that I may resent it and leave and never return. But he has _never_ wavered from what was good for me, what was in my best interests. He consistently put me above his needs, his emotions. He asked for nothing, _ever_."

Mycroft leaned forward to put a gentle hand on Sherlock's head, stroking his hair, as he listened. Sherlock snorted in self-deprecation, "Mycroft, I _feasted_….. like a starved man feasts upon finding sustenance. I used his love to make myself whole again. To regain my self-worth, my pride, my peace of mind, myself. I used his body to enjoy the gratification I had denied myself for so long. I used the knowledge of his unflinching acceptance of me, to find myself again. I had come to feel very deeply for him. But it was all still for _me_."

Sherlock looked down and said quietly "And then, Kedarnath happened. We never told you, Mycroft…. Kesh almost died." Mycroft's fingers halted as he tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair and angled Sherlock's head up, frowning. "Yes, My….. he was literally dangling over the raging river, holding a worn out branch. I almost lost him…. And suddenly, I realized that while I might not need him for life to continue, I had no desire to live a life without him. That I loved him….. without need, without reservation, from the fullness of myself. That he was the one, the only one. That I would like nothing more than to spend my life with him, and love him as he deserved to be loved. That just as he was _my Kesh_, I wanted to be _his Sherlock_, forever his."

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft and said in a tone of wonder, "Mycroft, Kesh once explained to me the difference between love and attachment. He said _Love blossoms and surges forth, regardless of what the other person feels or where he is. First you have to be a complete person, and only then you can love another. When you need another to complete you, it is not love. _I understand now what he meant because that is the love I feel. He exists, he has come into my life, he is magnificent. And when I look at him, love pours out. My heart sings. I feel like I have come home. It really is as simple as that!"

Mycroft's lips trembled and his eyes shone with tears as he listened. Unable to help himself, he pulled Sherlock close to him and embraced him, cradling that much loved body with a surge of relief and delight.

He mumbled against Sherlock's hair as he held him, "Tell him that, Sherlock. That amazing, patient man has waited for so long. He loves you so much. _Please _tell him that, baby brother. None deserves you more. There could not be a better mate for you. I had hoped and prayed. _Tell him_ that..." He choked out a cry of joy.

Sherlock smiled against Mycroft's chest as he murmured softly, "I will, My….. I will tell him….. Tonight."

To be continued…..


	18. Yoga- Union

Sherlock swayed, eyes closed, violin tucked under his chin, even as his hands moved.

It was a beautiful moonlit night, a gentle breeze caused his blue silk robe to flutter behind him, as his bare feet moved in a gentle rhythm on the marble floor of the terrace. Light from the bedroom poured out and along with the moonlight caused a soft light to envelop his form.

He thought about Kesh as he played, a soft smile on his lips, as love seemed to pour directly from his heart into the music. He had always considered his violin, his music as an extension of himself, the one thing he could trust to translate his innermost thoughts into pure expression, without the filter of words.

His smile grew, as he recognized the beauty of his own melody, effortlessly translating all that he wanted to say to Kesh. But Kesh wasn't here yet. So Sherlock played, waiting for his love to arrive. The man in whose infinitely strong hands, safe hands, loving hands, he meant to hand over his heart tonight.

_I love you, Kesh. I am your Sherlock_. The complex tune sang out the words in joy, in anticipation, in love.

* * *

><p>The car swerved around the rough road from Rudraprayag to Kesh's house as it climbed. Vedant's expert driving made it a far less uncomfortable ride that it could have been, the rains having further eroded the road littered with potholes and broken rocks. It was nine in the night. Having organized many things to help the stranded survivors, and said an emotional farewell to young Subin, Kesh was on his way home.<p>

He sat quietly in the back seat, eyes closed. Vedant, used to his master's silences after so many years of working for him, was quiet too. He took care to drive at a steady pace, avoided using the brakes or swerving too much; he did not want his Hrishikesh bhaiyya to be disturbed.

Kesh let his mind wander, giving his busy brain a break.

_Mycroft must have gone this afternoon…I should have gone to drop him…he might think I am rude….. no, he won't. He is like Sherlock, a breathtaking combination of amazing intelligence and perceptiveness. What a subtle but forceful personality he has….. how much he loves his brother. He was as I imagined he would be…. How did their parents cope? Not one, but two geniuses in the house…. I wish I had the opportunity to spend more time with him…. How very like Sherlock he was, one does not need to spell anything out to those two….. Sherlock….. I love him, so much. The more time I spend with him, the more in awe of him I am….. and it appears I am not alone, even Mycroft is in awe of him. He called him a supernova….Mycroft is not a man given to fanciful speech…. Sherlock. _

They were nearing the house. Vedant's ever cheerful voice interrupted Kesh's thoughts, "Hrishikesh bhaiyya, do you want me to stay at your house tonight, in case Sherlock Sir or you need anything? Sonali has gone home with the children. I could make tea and breakfast for you in the morning."

"No, Vedant, that is not necessary. You go home and help Sonali. Did you get money from Uddhav today? I don't want any expense spared in looking after the children and all the other people under our care."

"Yes, bhaiyya. Uddhav bhaiyya gave us plenty of money. Tomorrow Partha and I will go and buy more food. Sorry that you had only some leftovers to bring for Sherlock Sir."

"That's alright, Vedant. Sherlock does not bother about these things," said Kesh and fell silent again. His mind wandered back to Sherlock.

_Sherlock…. I love him so much…. I want to be close to him tonight. Want him to have me, take his pleasure in me, own me….. want him inside me, filling me…. Oh God, it feels so good, so intense….. his soft lips, his smell, his voice….. the way his voice rumbles, like shock waves going through my body…. God must have a voice just like his…. want to hold him, and never let him go…. want to drown in those beautiful eyes, melt in his arms, just merge with him…. He will be gone in three days…. He hasn't indicated that he wants me to go with him or even go to London to visit him…. What if he does not want me in his life anymore…. What if he goes back and lives his life without me….. what if he sees John and starts loving him again….. that is okay… as long as he is happy, I can deal with it, but it is going to be so difficult after having been with him for so long….. I will deal with it… but if my love is true, it will pull him back to me …. It must…. I hope… I love him so much….._

The car turned in the driveway of the house. Kesh got off, carrying the small packed parcel of some rice, dal and potato curry. He waved goodbye to Vedant and walked in.

* * *

><p>Sherlock smiled as he heard the car leave and then the front door close. Well aware that Kesh will walk up straightaway pulled by the sounds of his violin, he turned to face the bedroom door opening out into the terrace. His keen ears heard the footsteps up the stairs, and then soft footsteps into the terrace. He smiled and played, eyes closed, body swaying, trying to transform his feelings into music, the <em>sentiment<em> which he had always hated, but which right now was coursing through him with an unfathomable force, a force of love so deep and profound that he shook with it…..

_Please, Kesh. Understand what I am playing. I…. I, who am a master of words and expression….. I don't feel equal to this task… my mouth trembles at even contemplating the translation of this sublime feeling into words…. It is not possible….. please understand, please hear me, my Kesh… I love you, I have never loved another as I love you… have my heart, my soul, make it yours… can you hear me, Kesh….. my Kesh….._

Kesh stood transfixed. He watched at the most beautiful man he knew, listening to the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard in his life. He did not understand music, but there was something almost supernatural about it, like it was pulling him, saying something. There was joy, and love and exuberance and tenderness.

_Just look at him….. I cannot believe he is possible….. Sherlock… the love of my life… this music….. how can it be so divine….. maybe he is divine… how is he possible….._

The music slowed, the melody ended as if something were left unsaid. Kesh watched quietly as Sherlock stilled and finally opened his eyes. They glistened with an indescribable softness as they looked at Kesh. Sherlock silently bent down and put the violin gently on the divan. He stepped up to Kesh wordlessly, facing him. They gazed at each other, lost in each other.

Finally Sherlock brought up both his hands to show Kesh, as he said in a husky voice, "Look at my hands, Kesh. I've been playing for two hours. Trying to talk with music, trying to come up with the right words to say."

Sherlock fell silent again eyes darting as he scanned his vocabulary as if searching for words. Kesh's eyes had taken on an alert awareness as he looked with understanding and acceptance. He waited.

Sherlock continued in the hushed silence of the night. "I thought I should go back to London and stay there for some time. To see if I forgot you or whether I missed you or needed you…. I thought London was my home, and being with you meant I was away from home….. I thought I had to choose. My old life or you. London or India." Sherlock shook his head, voice subdued as he confessed, 'Stupid…_stupid_…. I was a fool, Kesh…._YOU_ are my home. As long as you are with me, any place is home. With you, no matter where I am, I'm always home."

Sherlock spread his arms with emphasis, voice husky with emotion, "I kept asking myself this. _Kesh, who are you_? Forgive me for with all my intellect I failed to see what should have been patently evident. You are my friend… my life… my love…. the one for whom my heart beats," Sherlock's voice broke.

A tear escaped from one eye, simmered like a pearl drop over the cliff of his cheekbone, before losing the fight and falling down. His eyes shone with a silver grey light, the intense love flooding them was a potent force reaching out to Kesh and enfolding him in a warm embrace with the impact of a tidal wave.

Kesh looked, spellbound and overwhelmed, his own eyes shining with tears. Every word that Sherlock spoke, every breath in and out of Sherlock's body, every tear that fell from Sherlock's eyes, was as though applying a soothing balm over his yearning heart…. All the hours, days, months spent in waiting with hope for _this one moment_…

He watched, stunned, as Sherlock slowly knelt down in front of him. Sherlock gently picked up Kesh's right hand and buried his face in the palm, as he let the tears fall and fought to regain his composure. Holding the hand, he finally looked up at Kesh with joy and confidence. His deep voice resonated with dignity and gravitas as he rumbled, "Forgive me, my Kesh. For causing you pain through my stupidity, for being so slow to realize this. You told me once, that you did not want a relationship with me. Relationships are _relative_, you said. With me you wanted _unity_, if I chose to gift it to you… I do so choose….. I love you, Kesh. I am _your Sherlock_, just as you are my Kesh. Will you do me the honour of spending the rest of your life with me? Will you accept my heart, my body, my soul, my entire being and claim it for your own?" Sherlock let go of Kesh's hand and bent his head forward to nuzzle it on Kesh's hip. He slid one hand around Kesh's waist and the other clutched his shirt, as he whispered, "_Please_ Kesh, please accept me….."

Kesh looked at Sherlock, took his fill of the vision of Sherlock Holmes saying the words he had dared not dream of, and then closed his eyes. Tears glistened on his cheeks, his body felt as though it was not enough to hold the joy, the elation, the love that threatened to burst out of him. He swayed, his heart was pounding in his chest, breathing was forgotten, as he slowly put a trembling hand on Sherlock's head and stroked his hair.

_I want to die right now….this very minute…there is nothing else left to achieve in this life….Sherlock loves me…he wants me to share his life with him….. Sherlock's heart… the most priceless, unattainable thing in this universe…he has gifted it to me….. what more is there in life… Sherlock loves me…_

He wordlessly pulled Sherlock up and time seemed to stand still as they stood close looking at each other; no longer two people, but one; One heart, one soul, one being. Kesh stepped in to embrace his Sherlock. He could not stop the choked sob that escaped him, as he felt a strong hand cradle his head, tangled in his hair, as another slipped around his waist to pull him close. Both friends thought at the same time, "_Home_." They stood in silence, wrapped in each other, hearts beating together, neither wanting to disturb the beauty and perfection of this moment in their lives.

Finally, Sherlock murmured against Kesh's ear, "Take me to bed, Kesh." Kesh tightened his arms around Sherlock as he nodded and whispered back, "Yes…..yes." Kesh bent down to pick up Sherlock's hand and held it against his cheek, he whispered in a shaky voice, "I love you… love you so much…yes please, Sherlock."

* * *

><p>The warm glow of the bedside lamp spread an intimate glow in Kesh's bedroom. Sherlock stood in the middle of the room looking down with heavy desire laced eyes, his fingers tangled in Kesh's long hair, "Kesh… Oh God…. Kesh…." Kesh knelt in front of him as he kissed and licked Sherlock's straining hardness. He stopped from time to time to bury his face in the thick curls and smell Sherlock, and lick around. "Please, Kesh…. take me in your mouth," Sherlock groaned with need. Opening his mouth wide, Kesh finally took him in his mouth, hands on that plush ass, pulling Sherlock closer. Sherlock sighed with relief, savouring the gentle suction as he sank into that willing wet mouth, "Kesh….. so good…that feels good."<p>

He started thrusting slowly, enjoying the suction and wetness as he plunged in, and the feel of Kesh's tongue chasing his cock, licking and slurping as he withdrew. He spread his legs, tightening his hands on Kesh's head, "You've become _very_ good at this, Kesh….." He gave himself up to sensation, until he felt the telltale buildup of pressure in his pelvis. "Stop, Kesh… stop," he pulled out completely, breathing hard, trying to control himself. He pulled Kesh up, and kissed him hungrily, murmuring, "Not like this….. not tonight….. on the bed, Kesh."

He lied down on the bed pulling Kesh down with him. Looking up at that loving face, he placed soft kisses all over it, murmuring, "My Kesh….. my love….. make love to me." Kesh smiled gently as he brushed Sherlock's hair back from his forehead, and placed a tender kiss on it, "I love you, Sherlock." Gentle loving hands caressed Sherlock's heated frame, soft lips paid homage to every inch of his beautiful body, worshipping eyes watched Sherlock as he writhed, and moaned and keened with pleasure, with need, with steadily increasing desperation. Teeth nibbled at Sherlock's nipples, hands kneaded his ass, lips kissed and sucked the delicate skin of his groin, tongue licked Sherlock's neck, hot breaths caressed as Kesh attempted to transform his boundless adoration and love into a physical act . Hands strayed to Sherlock's aching swollen cock and stroked, warm brown eyes held his gaze, as Kesh came up to him time and again to breathe along with Sherlock, to whisper in awe and love, "I love you….. I love you, Sherlock."

Sherlock felt he was unraveling, floating as his hips bucked up of their own accord, his back arched, and a steady stream of "Kesh…. Please, Kesh…. Oh God, Kesh….. love you…Kesh, just there… Yes, just like that… more please..." escaped his mouth. He gave up completely to the slow reverent exploration, as his eyes dreamily tracked each movement, mouth slack with pleasure, no filters, no pretense, no barriers, just him and his Kesh…..

Finally, reluctantly Kesh stopped and got up. He smiled as he stepped away to bathroom and came back with lube. Climbing on the bed again he lied down next to Sherlock stroking his hair and said in wonder, "I still can't believe I am allowed this… To touch you wherever I want, kiss you, hold you. I still feel it is a dream, brought about by my desperate love for you." Bending down to kiss Sherlock softly he placed the lube in Sherlock's hand as he continued, "I was thinking on my way home today, that I have just three more days with you, you will leave… this bed, this room, this house, my life would become empty."

Sherlock said quietly, "I am sorry, Kesh. Please forgive me." He gently pulled Kesh's arm towards him. He kissed Kesh's palm softly and held it against his flushed cheek, eyes glittering as they looked up at Kesh, "I love you, Kesh," he said as he pressed the tube into Kesh's palm. Kesh frowned and looked at Sherlock, eyes questioning.

Answering the unasked question, Sherlock leaned up to place a soft kiss on Kesh's lips and whispered against his mouth, "Tonight _you,_ Kesh. Want you inside me." He flushed as he settled his head back on the pillow and continued, "Kesh… I… I haven't done… I don't really have any experience in… receiving…..a long time ago….. I tried with someone….. he was very keen…. he…. he tried….. but I ….. I pushed him away as he tried to get the head of his cock in… I ….. it felt too intrusive… like I wasn't in control….. I hate not being in control…..I _couldn't_, Kesh… I ….. I haven't tried since then." He pulled Kesh down face inches away, moist loving eyes locked into Kesh's, "But tonight, Kesh please… I need, I _need,_ I want so badly….. to be yours….. please, Kesh….."

Kesh looked down at his friend's flushed face, flushed with both arousal and embarrassment, he looked at the lube in wonder, and shook his head, "No Sherlock…. You never have to do this.…. what you have given me, your love, your friendship….. that is already more than I dreamed of…. More than I deserve."

Sherlock's keen eyes focused into Kesh's as he shook his head, "Don't mistake my embarrassment for hesitation, Kesh. The embarrassment is for my lack of experience in this area and a best forgotten episode of my wild years….but why would I be embarrassed to offer this to you? To ask this of you? I _want_ it, want to feel you moving inside me, want to know what it feels like when you claim me, when you come inside me….." He ran a gentle finger over Kesh's moist lips, "I _want_ to lose control to the man whom I trust more than myself. Whom I love.….. I want what you had asked from me once… _you on top, I want you above me, in me, around me, everywhere…._" He pulled up Kesh's hand and squirted lube on his fingers as he whispered, "_Please_ Kesh…."

Kesh stroked his hair with his other hand, kissing Sherlock's temple as he said quietly, "Sherlock, I want you to never utter the word 'please' to me. _Demand_ anything from me that it is my power to give. _Command _me, I am yours, _order_ me. Never ask, never say please. I _hate_ to hear that word come out of your mouth." He bent down to kiss Sherlock gently, "I love you."

He gazed in wonder at the vision before him.

Sherlock Holmes lay naked on his bed, miles of fair skin, marred by three day old scratches and cuts, the most beautiful eyes in the world looking at him with love and trust, the irises barely a thin curtain around wide pupils, the bent legs spread wide in absolute submission as though offering himself, the proud hard erection bobbing up from the black curls, the hands, one holding Kesh's arm pulling him closer, the other curled into a restless nervous fist around the bedsheet, the gentle puffs of breath leaving moist panting lips, the chest rising and falling as Sherlock looked at Kesh expectantly.

Kesh turned his eyes back to Sherlock, and kissed him gently. He slicked his fingers with the lube. His lips placed reassuring kisses all over Sherlock's face, as he gently parted the plump cheeks to slide into his cleft. He kissed his forehead as his finger touched his opening and massaged it with infinite patience. "I love you," he whispered, touching Sherlock's forehead to his, eyes locked in with Sherlock's, as he penetrated with one finger. He felt it, as Sherlock let go completely, eyes holding Kesh's fiercely, as his lips parted and his back arched. "Kesh…." Sherlock moaned in awe, as Kesh found his prostate and stroked it with confident strokes, murmuring, "Love you… love you, Sherlock."

He held Sherlock close, kissing him, reassuring him, as he prepared him gently, taking his time.

"Kesh….. I need you… Kesh…." Sherlock keened as the sensation of fullness with three fingers and the exquisite stimulation of his prostate became too much. Sweat glistened on his forehead, as he pleaded, "Kesh…_now,_ Kesh…." his head thrashed helplessly on the pillow as his clenched fists whitened against the sheets.

Kesh prepared himself quickly, without leaving Sherlock for a second, even as he groaned from the feel of his own hands against his aching length. He adjusted himself between Sherlock's spread legs, and they both looked at each other, holding their breaths, as his cock nudged against Sherlock's entrance. "I love you, Sherlock… please don't….. I won't be able to handle it if I hurt you even a little bit….. _please_ just this once, don't be stubborn…. Tell me….if you're uncomfortable….. I'll stop straight away," he pleaded. Sherlock gave a confident laugh, "Kesh, you could never hurt me, you were _born_ to take my pain away…"

Kesh cradled that precious head and held it, as he started sliding in gently. Sherlock eyes widened, as he felt his Kesh's flesh enter him, the thick cock stretching him, _no pain, only joy, as if bliss itself is entering me_.

When he was fully sheathed, they looked at each other, wonder and joy and love and trust fighting for primacy in their expressions, _where does one end and where does the other one begin_, thought Kesh. He brought their foreheads together, as he murmured in Sherlock's mouth, "Alright, Sherlock? Are you alright?" he asked anxiously. A stunned Sherlock nodded, as he panted, "Yes, yes… Oh God, yes, Kesh….you're inside me….. it feels so good…...Kesh…." Cupping both palms around that beloved face, Kesh licked the tears falling from Sherlock's eyes, his own wet with joy too. He asked disbelievingly, "Mine?" Sherlock laughed with joy as he said, "Yours, Kesh. Forever yours. Only yours."

Kesh groaned aloud, as burying his face into the nape of Sherlock's neck, he began moving. "Feels so good, Sherlock, I never knew…. Like heaven… so tight….you're so…. You're so hot inside… I'm inside you… how…. How did I earn this… I love you, Sherlock." he gasped. Sherlock spread his legs wider, lifting them off the bed to tilt his hips, drawing Kesh deeper, as he panted, "Yes…. God Kesh…..yes." With each draw-back and plunge-in they gasped; drawn by some primal impulse, Sherlock found himself wrapping his long legs around Kesh's torso.

They moved, joined and connected with each other, staring into each other's disbelieving eyes, taking their pleasure, their bodies making a feeble attempt to declare their love, souls fused into one being. The sounds of moans and gasping breath and "I love you… so good… don't stop…. Yes…yes….. right there…Oh God… don't ever stop…..love you….." rapturously filled the room and travelled outside the open French windows to reverberate into the night.

Sherlock bucked and shivered, sweat dripping from his brow, as Kesh enveloped him, held him, took him. Kesh looked wrecked as he felt Sherlock's warmth engulf him and watched Sherlock come apart underneath him.

"Kesh…. harder, Kesh….. need…..I need more….." Sherlock begged without inhibition, voice hoarse with exertion and desperation, "Kesh, you must move, harder…faster…. Don't tease me.."

Kesh leaned both his hands over the head board for leverage, and watched his cock piston in and out of Sherlock with eyes gone wild with desire. Sherlock fingernails gouged deep scratches to Kesh's sides as each plunge hammered into his sweet spot, and the pressure in his pelvis built up, his balls drawing up. His hips rose helplessly in rhythm with Kesh's plunges to add the sounds of slapping flesh to the desperate gasps from Kesh's mouth and his own almost continuous whimpering and pleading noises. Kesh let go of the headboard, as he braced himself on one outstretched hand and with the other he held Sherlock's cock, and spreading the precum and sweat around it he stroked.

Sherlock was almost sobbing, as the twin sensations of prostate stimulation with intense fullness and the stroking of his engorged almost purple cock became too much. His hands covered his face, his head thrashed on the pillow as he pleaded with a voice thick with need, "Kesh….. Tell me what to do….I think I'm going to die….. I've never felt like this before. It's too much….. help me." Bending down to kiss Sherlock's hands Kesh gasped, "I've got you, Sherlock…..let go…. come for me, Sherlock," as he plunged and retreated with long, deep strokes and pumped Sherlock's cock with firm, twisting movements.

"Kessshhhhhhh…." The loud triumphant cry echoed in the empty house as Sherlock arched and came, he pulsed and pulsed in Kesh's hands, long white streaks of come splattering all over, as his anus clenched rhythmically around Kesh's cock. He forgot to breathe as he felt Kesh push in deep, "Sherlock….Oh my God…" and felt his warm release flood inside him. Chests heaving, they looked at each other, stunned and stupefied, as if drowning in each other. Sherlock started shaking uncontrollably, as with a loud gasp, he started breathing again, as he whispered, "_What _did you do to me, Kesh?"

Panicking at the sight of a violently shivering Sherlock, Kesh slipped out of him quickly and gathered his trembling body to hold him close, tightening his arms around the curled body, kissing his face all over, "It's okay, Sherlock….. I've got you… I'm sorry…. I lost control….. it felt so good….. please, Sherlock….. please forgive me… please be okay... Sherlock, _please_….I'll _never_ touch you again, never kiss you again, I promise…. Just be okay…. Please, Sherlock _tell_ me I haven't hurt you….I'm sorry….._what have I done_… "

Sherlock raised a trembling hand to touch Kesh's face tenderly as he managed to pant, haltingly, "Kesh, my Kesh, you did not hurt me. It is just….. it was the most intense orgasm of my life… I've never felt any sensation this intensely _ever_….. I never knew it could be like this…" He rubbed his thumb over Kesh's tears, smiling softly, reassuringly at his guilt ridden face.

They lay still looking at each other, waiting for their pounding hearts and heavy breathing to settle. Sherlock leaned forward eventually, "My Kesh… that was the most spectacular thing I've ever experienced. You, my love, were _fantastic_," He smiled as he rubbed noses with Kesh and placed soft kisses on his mouth. Kesh smiled back, as he buried his face in Sherlock's chest shyly, and Sherlock held him close.

* * *

><p>Sherlock sat on the bed, back resting against the headboard, legs bent at the knees and spread apart, his arms around Kesh. Kesh sat between his legs, body curled up against Sherlock's chest, face upturned as Sherlock kissed him softly. Gentle hands cupped Kesh's face, as Sherlock smiled and murmured against the corner of his mouth, "Love you, Kesh." Kesh's hands stroked Sherlock's hair, moved over his chest, as he sighed into the kisses, feeling drugged and happy. "I don't want this night to end, Sherlock. Just want to stay like this for the rest of my life," he whispered against Sherlock's lips.<p>

_Earlier they had gone downstairs, starving and thirsy after their exertion, to share a simple meal of leftovers, as Kesh filled Sherlock in about the events of the day. And then they showered together, lazily cleaning each other, as they kissed and smiled and touched. _

Now they sat on the bed, dressed in their night clothes, bodies entwined; Sherlock nuzzled the nape of Kesh's neck and breathed in as he said, "My Kesh…..just mine." He reluctantly straightened up after a while and looked at Kesh. Holding Kesh's palm, softly kissing it, he asked, "What now, Kesh? What would you like to see happen? Would you like me to live here with you? Would you like to come to London with me?"

"Whatever you want, Sherlock. I am happy as long as you are happy," answered Kesh.

Sherlock shook his head emphatically, "No…. no, I'm not making the same mistake again. You decide Kesh, I know whatever you say will be for the best."

Kesh was quiet as he thought for a while, a small frown on his forehead. After several seconds he looked at Sherlock and said slowly, "You should go back to London. I'll join you in a few weeks. I'll wind up things here, speak to Uddhav and set up for things to continue in my absence. It will take some time. Maybe a month. Sherlock, _a lot_ of people depend on me for their livelihood. I need to make sure that no one suffers because of me leaving. Uddhav is capable of handling things, but we will have to discuss and decide and set up things, talk to a lot of people; the factories and their managers, the cooperatives, the schools, hospitals. What to talk about all the survivors who are depending on us to get them home or help them build new lives here…"

"Your work is important, Kesh. If you prefer I could stay here with you."

"No, Sherlock. The work I do here, can be done by Uddhav and others. But what you do, _only _you can do, no one else can. Besides, the world is a global village now. I can come to India every few months if needed. I can video conference with Uddhav if needed. And I have been neglecting my research and my research team for the past three months. It will be easier to go to CERN whenever required. But I want you to go back now."

"Why? Why can't I just stay with you and help you?" asked Sherlock.

"Because it is _time_….. time to go and do what you do….. time to apply what you have learnt….. time to be without your Kesh even if for some time and rediscover your inner strength so that you know you are complete in yourself and do not need anyone, not even Kesh….. time to realize what I know so well… You are magnificent, you are _perfection_."

Sherlock kissed Kesh's hand again and murmured against it, "A month… _evam astu_, Kesh. I will wait. I will make you proud, my Kesh."

Sherlock fell silent as he stroked Kesh's face, his arms, holding him close. His eyes were unfocussed, a small frown on his face, as he seemed to be thinking. Kesh waited patiently.

Finally he said, "Kesh, I wanted to speak with you about a couple of things." Meeting Kesh's eyes, he took a deep breath before speaking, "When I go back, it is inevitable that Lestrade will have cases for me… he will have cold cases that he would have had difficulty with as well. He will call me… and John…. John is bored with his life, he must be waiting for some excitement…. John will come too." Candid eyes looked at Kesh, piercing in their intensity as he continued, "I need to know… is it okay with you, if John comes on cases? I will find it difficult to deny him this… he is my friend. He _needs_ this, he has always needed it. Will you be alright with it?"

Kesh frowned as he replied, "Why should I not be fine with it? I don't understand, Sherlock. Your relationship with him, is between the two of you. What do I have to do with it?"

Sherlock took another deep breath as he answered quietly, "I thought you may feel jealous or resentful. I assure you, that he is just a good friend now… I don't want him sexually or love him….." he stared at Kesh mutely, speaking with his eyes, asking for Kesh to understand. Kesh smiled, "Sherlock, this is not about trust. I have told you, I love you. I will always love you. And whatever makes you happy, makes me happy. I know you don't love John, you actually never loved him. But even if you were to start feeling love or desire for him, if it made you happy, I would want that for you… Please don't deny that man of your friendship or your company, just because of me or any perceived slight to me. He is your friend. He must be a good man to be your friend."

Sherlock stared at him and then shook his head and snorted, "You extraordinary man…." He bent down to kiss Kesh, nibbling and pecking before his tongue entered to claim and lick and taste. Kesh responded eagerly as he whimpered at the sudden urgency in Sherlock's movements, letting himself be claimed, be dominated. Finally, reluctantly Sherlock withdrew. His face still looked serious, as he sat up again. He was silent as he gathered himself.

"Kesh, there is something else you need to know. I ….. you have seen me behave in a good way out here in India, with you….. with all your friends. But in London, when I'm working….I am told…. I am at times, a bit _not good_….. I lose my cool, I snap at people, I am rude…. Especially when I am frustrated with a difficult case…. John…" He looked down, embarrassed as he continued, "Even John called me a '_tit_'and a "_dick_" once, he called me a "_machine_" at another time. I am difficult to live with. I am messy. I forget things that people seem to consider important. I sometimes don't talk for days at a time, when I'm lost in my mind palace, thinking… Kesh, what if you find it difficult to live with me? What if I am rude to you, or impatient with you? I'll _try_ Kesh. I'll try strenuously, but it's easy to forget other things when I'm thinking and concentrating on a case….. I don't ever want you to regret coming to London. But it is true, I am not the same person there, as I am here."

He looked up at Kesh again, and waited, brows furrowed in anxiety.

"Sherlock, to judge a person by their behavior is very silly indeed. It is as immature as judging a person by their race, or clothes, or their bank balance. A man may be uncouth and surly but he may be a good man underneath. A man may have the most polished manners in the world, and may be a rotten person underneath. There are so many factors that shape us over the years, who are we to judge anyone?"

Kesh looked at Sherlock with tenderness and love spilling from his eyes, as he continued, "As for you….I love you. Why would I mind if you are rude or impatient with me? Who else will you show your frustration, your anger to? In fact, once I come there, I insist that you take it all out on me. And you can rest assured, I will never look at how you behave. I love you, the real you, the essential Sherlock inside, that's the one I have always loved. What is the point if you have to censor yourself around me, pretend to feel what you are not feeling? It makes no sense!"

Sherlock looked intently at Kesh and then a slow smile spread on his lips, transforming all the anxiety into a beautiful, incredulous smile. He repeated softly, "You extraordinary man." He rubbed noses with Kesh, placing light kisses on his face, his mouth, his eyes. After a while, a deep chuckle escaped him, as he looked at Kesh with wicked eyes, "Maybe when things get difficult, I can come home and have angry sex with you….." Kesh's eyes widened as he repeated, "Angry sex….. is there such a thing?"

Sherlock snaked his hand down to cup Kesh's ass and pulled him closer, he nibbled on his ear and whispered, "Oh yes, Kesh. I can just see it….. I come home frustrated with not solving the crime, or when Donovan makes me see red….. I throw you on the bed and rip your clothes off….. prepare you hurriedly, spread your legs and then sink into you…. and fuck you roughly, taking you hard, with nary a thought for your pleasure…..Oh Kesh…."

Kesh looked with wide eyes as Sherlock drew back, face flushed as Sherlock's evocative words spun a fantasy in front of him. Sherlock's deep chuckle woke him, "Look at you, Kesh! You like the sound of that don't you?" Kesh buried his face into Sherlock, embarrassed, even as Sherlock kept laughing and nuzzling him and teasing him with wicked words and obscene fantasies.

* * *

><p><em>The next day…<em>

Kesh bounded up Uddhav's driveway, a spring in his steps as he pounded on the door. Meera opened the door, her eyes widened with delight as she cried out, "_Hrishikesh bhaiyya_!" She looked around desperately and called out, "Uddhav….. Mummy… Manjula…. Mahesh….Guess who is here? Come quickly." With a gesture of her hand, she asked Kesh to wait, as she ran into the small temple adjoining the kitchen. Hurriedly she got a plate ready with sandalwood paste, red kumkum and a small lamp and essence. With trembling hands she got the steel plate organized and ran outside to find everyone gathered around Kesh, waiting at the front door.

Lighting the lamp, she waved the plate in a circular motion in front of him, a traditional Indian way of welcoming an esteemed guest, especially when they visit your home for the first time. Kesh looked indulgently, as he waited. When Meera was finished, he smiled and said, "Meera, I have come to this house hundreds of times." Meera retorted, "But not since I got married and started living here." She stepped forward to touch Kesh's feet and bending low, welcomed him inside.

Uddhav had been staring at Kesh's jubilant expression, his own delight and hope leaping in his heart. He waited impatiently for Meera to finish, before blurting out, "Hrishikesh, what is it? Why this sudden visit? Please tell us."

Kesh grinned broadly as he pulled Manjula to him and with a hand on her shoulder, he declared, voice exuberant, "Uddhav, Meera, Aunty…. Sherlock has asked me to move in with him in London." Meera let out an audible gasp as she flung herself into Kesh's arms murmuring, "Thank you, thank you, God. Bhaiyya, I had prayed so much, there are so many rituals I promised to do, thank you, God."

Uddhav impatiently waited his turn, and engulfed his friend in a huge embrace as soon as his arms were free. "Yes…. Yes…" he whispered. "YES"

They clapped hands in delight and laughed and cheered as they soaked in the vision of a love struck happy Hrishikesh, finding joy in his joy.

"Don't worry about anything here, Hrishikesh," Uddhav declared confidently. "Leave everything to me. I will take care of it. You go, go with your heart…. When do you leave?"

"Sherlock will leave in two days. I will wait here to sort things out and join him in about a month."

"Why? You can go now….. do you not trust me? I will manage," cried out Uddhav.

Putting a gentle hand on the young man's shoulders, Kesh said, " I trust you with everything, Uddhav. No one could be more capable. But there are reasons, I want Sherlock to go before me. And we will have time to talk to everyone, set things up. We need to talk to all the managers, go to the survivors, still have to sort out where to build the new school…."

They continued talking for a long time

* * *

><p>Manjula skipped ahead of Meera as she ran out into the terrace. Sherlock was sitting with his laptop working on it. Manjula ran straight to him and waited impatiently for him to put it aside. She climbed on to his lap confidently and looked at him as he wrapped his arms around her waist.<p>

"Sherlock uncle, Meera didi (sister) says that you are going to foreign tomorrow. And that Hrishikesh uncle will be joining you in some days." She frowned, "Meera didi said you are the most intelligent man in this entire world. I wish you were not leaving. I wanted to study with you." Sherlock smiled as he asked, "So what will you do now, Manjula?"

"I'm going to Mr Rathod's school. He is also going to take tuitions for Meera didi and teach her to read and write. It is all settled. And at home, I'll study with Uddhav uncle. He is very clever too." She leaned forward conspirationally and whispered, "Don't tell him I told you. But I think he is the second most intelligent man in the world." Sherlock threw his head back as he chuckled and asked, "Is he now?"

He gently dislodged a nodding Manjula off him, and walked slowly towards Meera. The young woman stared at him as he neared, and then looked down nervously. He stood in front of her looking, waiting.

She seemed to be thinking furiously and stayed quiet for a while. Abruptly nodding to herself, she straightened herself and looked up bravely to met Sherlock's gaze. Taking a deep breath she said, "Sherlock sir….. thank you for taking Hrishikesh bhaiyya with you. You have made all our dreams come true… But there are some things you need to know…Sir, bhaiyya is a great man, but he is also a simple man. He is now _your_ responsibility. Uddhav says, that he never asks anything of anyone. _You_ must learn to read what he needs, because he will never ask for it. Uddhav says, when Hrishikesh bhaiyya is sad or hurt by something, he becomes very quiet. _You_ must learn to be alert and care for him when he is sad. He only knows how to give, he has spent his whole life looking after everyone… I think God himself has sent you, so that someone can look after him. _You _must look after him. He has no family, we all are his family. If he is homesick, don't leave him alone….. Keep him happy, and the whole world will smile at you."

Sherlock stood head bowed as he listened and nodded at all her injunctions quietly. He was struck by her simple dignity and remembered again what Kesh had said about appearances. This simple young woman, who could barely write her name, had with her attitude and her selfless love for Kesh won his hard earned respect. He waited for her to finish and said quietly, "I will keep him happy, Meera. I will look after him. He is lucky to have people like you all around him who care for him so much."

Meera snorted, "Then you don't know anything, Sherlock sir. It is _we_ who are lucky. It is _you_ who is lucky."

Sherlock looked up with understanding eyes as he responded, "I am aware, Meera. I promise you, I will do anything it takes to make him happy."

She stared at him for a long time, before nodding slightly with satisfaction. She smiled, face transformed, as she suddenly giggled like the young girl she was, "If you don't, I'll come all the way to London and let you have it, Sherlock sir." Blushing suddenly, she grabbed hold of Manjula's hand and darted out of there.

* * *

><p>Sherlock was packing his clothes, leaning into the cupboard to get his suit off the hanger, when Uddhav knocked on the door. "Hello Sherlock."<p>

Sherlock smiled warmly, "Hello Uddhav. Come in please, have a seat."

Uddhav smiled back and came in and sat down on the bed. "Almost done?" he asked.

"Yes, fortunately I like to travel light, there isn't much stuff." Sherlock's narrowed eyed scanned Uddhav, as he walked up to the desk and sat on the chair, legs outstretched, posture relaxed.

"What's on your mind, Uddhav?" he asked gently.

Uddhav looked down at his hands for a while, then smiled up at Sherlock. "I came to say I am so happy that Hrishikesh is coming to stay with you in London. It is….. it is what he wanted. Thank you, Sherlock."

Sherlock inclined his head slightly, as Uddhav continued, "I never told you how I met Hrishikesh…." Sherlock leaned forward, pinning Uddhav with interested eyes and waited.

Uddhav stood up to stand near the open French window, looking out into the terrace, as he spoke about a distant time. "My father was a worker at this estate. But he started drinking and gambling. We lost all our possessions. My father died when I was sixteen years old, hit by a truck as he was coming home drunk….. My mother had nowhere to go, the landlord had taken all our possessions to pay for outstanding rent and was about to evict us out of the small room we lived in. I was a good student and young….. instead of worrying about my mother, I was more focused on what would happen to my education…. Hrishikesh was barely twenty years old himself….. he heard about us through the other servants. One day, he just appeared at our doorstep. He talked to my mother and me. He said he would pay for my education, but it was subject to my studying hard and looking after my mother. He moved us into a house that he owned and bought us everything we needed. He told me, that during school vacations, I was to come and work with him. He paid for our living expenses, for my educations, books, uniforms….. everything."

Uddhav turned around to face Sherlock, "He saved me. He saved my mother. He gave me confidence, purpose, reassurance and support. Everything that I am is because of him, Sherlock….. And I am not the only one. He has helped countless other Uddhavs out there, whom you and I will never know about, because he never talks about it….. Sherlock, he is the greatest man I know, and I am blessed to be under his care." He stepped closer, as he raised his hand to gesture at Sherlock, "_You_ are blessed too. I ask that you do not forget that. Cherish him, revere him, love him the way he is meant to be….. Sherlock, when you left last time, he was so sad. I would watch him sitting alone on the terrace and I would come home every night and cry. If it would have made any difference, I would have given up my life to make him happy."

Uddhav shrugged and said in a bewildered voice, "Providence is so strange….. it sent you back. I am not sure why you came back….. but somehow now Hrishikesh and you are together… it is like a miracle, because just as _he_ is unique and great, so are _you_. I am a humble servant to both of you. If there is anything you need from me, anything I can do to make your life easier, smoother, better, you just have to command me." He took a deep breath and continued, " Please look after Hrishikesh, Sherlock. He is the strongest man I know, but somehow _you_ are his weakness, the one person in the world who can destroy him. Please take this as a serious responsibility when he comes to you. He is loved by many people over here. He has no one in London except you. It is our gift to you, that we are letting you take him away from us. _Please_ do not take it lightly." His voice broke as he stopped talking, overcome with emotion.

Sherlock stood up and walked towards Uddhav and put his hand on his shoulder. "Uddhav, I will….. I know who and what he is….. I love him, I will spend my life showing him that….. please, don't worry." He pulled Uddhav into a warm embrace as he spoke and gently held him for a while, letting Uddhav sob on his chest.

* * *

><p>Mycroft pasted a polite interested look on his face as the Prime Minister droned on about the upcoming Cabinet Meeting. As the PM turned to talk to the other ministers in the conference hall, he surreptitiously removed his mobile from his coat pocket for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He knew the message by rote since he had first read it, but was helpless in his desire to see it with his eyes again and again.<p>

_I leave India tomorrow. Kesh is moving to London in a month. He has accepted my love, accepted me, My – SH_

He ran his fingers lovingly over each word as the politicians talked in the background.

* * *

><p>Sherlock and Kesh stood wrapped in each other's arms in Kesh's bedroom. The luggage had been taken downstairs and put in the waiting car.<p>

_Last night, they had stayed awake most of the night, talking, kissing, holding. Sherlock had made gentle love to his Kesh, learning new ways of making Kesh sob with desperation and cry with pleasure. Spent, they had slept holding the other close, as if wanting to merge into one, aware of the period of separation coming up. _

Holding Kesh's face between his palms, Sherlock kissed him, open mouthed kisses, tongue roaming in the wet warmth, as if wanting to devour the taste, the smell of his Kesh. Kesh clung to him submitting himself to every caress. Finally, aware of the passing time, Sherlock stepped back. He said, in a voice hoarse with love, "I will wait every minute, of every day, till you come, Kesh. It will be my penance, my offering to you. Come soon, my love."

* * *

><p>A crowd stood close to the waiting car. Uddhav, Meera, Manjula, Partha, Shankar, Sonali, Vinod, Mahesh, Vedant and many other workers. Many had tears in their eyes as they prepared to say good bye to their Sherlock Sir. Many stood mutely with their hands folded in Namaste.<p>

Sherlock looked around, as he reflected.

_Barely three months ago, I had come here with a heavy heart looking for peace, for emotional sustenance… this place, these people healed me… how can I ever repay their debt… _

As Sherlock and Kesh walked towards the car, Vedant stepped forward, followed by the other workers.

"Sherlock sir, we all had something to say to you….. Sir, it has been an honour to look after you. We all are a witness to your greatness… We all are very sad that you are leaving….. We have been told that Hrishikesh bhaiyya will be joining you and staying in foreign with you….. it is like we are losing both our masters, our guardians…. Like being orphaned… Sir, please take care of yourself, please take care of our Hrishikesh bhaiyya… come back whenever you please, you have hundreds of homes out here… we would be happy to serve you at any time….. Hrishikesh bhaiyya is our everything… please look after him when he comes to you….." Sherlock watched as a usually smiling Vedant burst into tears. Even as he raised a hand to comfort him, Kesh stepped in and held Vedant's overcome body. "Don't farewell Sherlock with tears, Vedant," he chided. "You don't look very nice when you cry. You don't want Sherlock to remember your crying face do you?" he joked feebly, looking helplessly at Sherlock.

Sherlock stepped in to grasp Vedant's arm silently. Vedant wiped his eyes and looked up at Sherlock hopefully and asked, "Maybe if you can't come….. maybe we can visit you in foreign?"

The vision of unleashing a Vedant on Mrs Hudson and John and Lestrade and Molly and the unsuspecting British public flashed in front of Sherlock's eyes suddenly, as he threw back his head and laughed and laughed, while the others looked on in bemusement. It was a while, before he wiped his tears of laughter and said, "I am surely going to get you to visit us in foreign, Vedant."

Sherlock shook hands with everyone and did Namaste and embraced Uddhav and Manjula and Mahesh. He stepped back to face Kesh as Vedant got in and started the car. He whispered in a low voice, "I will be waiting for you, Kesh."

"I'll be there soon, Sherlock."

To be continued…..


	19. Jagat- The World

It was past one in the morning, that Sherlock cleared customs, got his luggage and re-entered his London. Mycroft stood at the gates, smiling softly.

Dragging his suitcase behind him Sherlock approached him, contented look in his shining eyes. They stood close and looked at each other for a few seconds, the razor sharp communication between their eyes rendering speech superfluous.

Finally Sherlock said, "Kesh sends his regards, Mycroft. He wishes to tell you that he is really looking forward to coming to London and seeing you again.

Taking a deep breath, Mycroft replied smiling, "No more so than I am looking forward to seeing him again, Sherlock. I had hoped to see him with you. But I suppose a month is not a long time, in the larger scheme of things….Let's get you home, baby brother. I have told Mrs Hudson not to wait up."

* * *

><p>"Wo-hoo!" Mrs Hudson's voice echoed in the flat, just as Sherlock came out of his bedroom, hair mussed, robe askew over his shoulders. He yawned loudly as he walked into the living room.<p>

Mrs Hudson looked up at him, pleasure writ large all over her face. "Sherlock!" she said fondly, as she stepped towards him. Sherlock accepted and returned her embrace with affection and smiled.

"How are you, Mrs Hudson?" his deep voice rumbled, as he stepped towards his green armchair and took a seat, crossing his legs, looking imperiously at her as an outstretched hand accepted the cup of tea she handed him.

She took a seat on the other chair and took a deep breath, as she continued smiling, running adoring eyes over his face. "Giddy as a school girl now that you are here," she admitted clapping her hands together. "This place isn't the same without you. It feels empty, smaller somehow. It felt a bit like when you were away for two years. Except this time of course, I knew you were well and with a friend."

Sherlock smiled and took a sip of his tea.

"Mycroft called me yesterday to tell me you were coming," she continued, extending a plate of biscuits towards him. "I spent all of yesterday cleaning the flat, baking, putting clean sheets, went to the shops to get milk and cookies and fill your fridge with food. I was so excited at the thought of you coming back, I could hardly contain myself!" she exclaimed.

Holding his biscuit, Sherlock said with his mouth full, "Thank you."

"Oh don't thank me," she said waving her hands, as she got up to get him a napkin. "I may not be your housekeeper, but I must admit I enjoy looking after you….So tell me, where did you go exactly? Who is this friend? Tell me about him."

Sherlock took a deep sip of his tea and observed her narrow eyed scrutiny over the rim of the cup. He put the cup down wordlessly as he searched for words. Finally he said, "Kesh. His name is Kesh."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a while, reading into the impassivity of his blank expression, and accepting his reluctance to talk. Abruptly changing the topic, she said, "John and that lovely Inspector were here in your absence. They wanted to know when you were coming back, whether I knew any more about your impromptu absence. I told them, that you left without saying much. Lestrade, I think had some cases he wanted you to look at. And John…. Well, I think he was missing all the excitement. Must be a bit bored by now, him being so addicted to the thrill of working with you."

She crossed her hands on her lap and settled back, watching Sherlock's serene expression, polite interest without emotion. "He looked happy enough, but it can't be _too_ exciting for him. Wife, child, clinic work….."

Sherlock smiled mechanically and replied, "Well, I'm sure he has everything that he wanted in life."

"Yes, well getting everything you want is not always for the best, is it? I told you marriage changes people, it also changes life. One needs to let go of the old life and embrace the new one. You can't have it all, you know. I don't think he has understood that _yet_…. Anyway, he came once again, two weeks ago. Just to have a cuppa and talk about old times, I think. He looked a bit lost without you. But then he always looks a bit lost without you. Have you told him you are back?"

"Not yet, Mrs Hudson. I will. Just wanted some quiet time to settle in," replied Sherlock, leaning his head back against the top of his chair and closing his eyes, as he sighed, soft wistful smile on his face….._Kesh_…..

She watched the smile for a few seconds then got up and started clearing the tea cups, leaving Sherlock alone. Walking back to the living room, she put a hand on his upturned forehead tenderly, "You look much better, Sherlock. I had been worried for a while, you had seemed so strung out and tired."

Sherlock looked up at her and smiled, bringing one hand up to hold her wrist gently, running a caressing thumb over her pulse point. In a quiet tone, he replied, "I _am_ better. Better than I have ever been, Mrs Hudson….. And about Kesh, I'll tell you later, when the time is right. There is so much to tell."

* * *

><p>It was eleven in the morning that Lestrade called.<p>

"Oye, Sherlock!" he cried out in a relieved and delighted tone. "Thank God! Sherlock, I need your help desperately. We've had a disappearance of a high school kid, the second one in ten days. We could really use your help."

Sherlock responded without preamble, "Text me the address, Lestrade."

"And I have a bone to pick with you, you wanker. Leaving without letting any of us know. It was fortunate that I called Mrs Hudson this morning to check for the hundredth time to ask just when you were going to get back….Anyway we'll talk when you get here."

"Good bye, Lestrade."

* * *

><p>Sherlock Holmes stood at a crime scene.<p>

Lestrade, Sally and a host of police officers and forensic team members were moving around, collecting evidence.

He stood still, legs slightly apart, narrowed, observant eyes scanning the dormitory room, absorbing everything, even as he heard Lestrade talk in the background. "Fifteen years old, disappeared from the dorm room. Had already signed in for the night. Was at the library prior to returning to the building…..Same as the previous girl, we had been looking for her. She too had visited the library and no one had seen her since. Her body was found in the park behind the school this morning. Molly is going to do the autopsy this afternoon…."

Sherlock waved for silence, as he moved. Quickly, methodically he scanned, touched, sniffed, observed…. Oblivious to the people watching him.

Sally turned to Lestrade in the corner, and whispered archly, "So, the freak's back, huh?"

Lestrade chided absently, by rote as he had for years, "Don't call him that, Sally. We need his help. This is turning into a media circus. And the parents are completely distraught. Chief is riding me hard on this one."

Sally sniffed apologetically, "I know, boss. Just that…. Even looking at him makes me mad sometimes. Arrogant ass!"

Sherlock meanwhile had pried something out of the joint in the wooden floorboard. He impatiently snapped his fingers for an evidence bag, without looking up. Sally walked up to him, and slapped the bag in his outstretched hand. "So you're back, Freak? Heard you'd gone to India. Have a nice holiday?" Sherlock took the piece of fabric he had found and put it solemnly in the evidence bag.

Blue-green eyes locked into hers as Sherlock straightened to his full height. Hands in his coat pocket, he looked at her with a detached expression and slightly inclined his head. "Yes, thank you, Sally." He turned back to his examination of the room.

Sally called out after him, "What! No smart-Alec remarks to show us how superior you are to us mere mortals." The rest of the people scattered around stopped what they were doing to listen, anticipating a familiar entertaining spat as always when these two clashed.

Sherlock turned to her, taking in her defensive stance, hand on her hips, curled upper lip, derision in her voice. Raising one corner of his lip mirthlessly, he answered softly, without venom, "Not today, Sally. Let's just get on with the job at hand, shall we? Get this to Molly. Could you have someone tell her that I will join her for the autopsy." He handed the bag to her and walked away.

Sally watched him, flummoxed even as her hand slid down her hips, frowning. Lestrade approached her, taking the bag from her hand and frowning at it. Sally mumbled slowly, "What's with him then?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Lestrade retorted, "Well, you know _him_. Hard to read at the best of times."

* * *

><p>The large doors of the autopsy room closed softly behind Sherlock and Lestrade as they walked in. Molly was bent over the desk, scribbling hurriedly on some paperwork. Hair escaped her messy ponytail as she wrote. She straightened on hearing footsteps and saw them.<p>

"Sherlock," she gasped. "You're back!" A wide smile split her face as she neared, ignoring the Inspector, eyes on Sherlock.

Sherlock looked at her with warm eyes crinkled into a smile, "Molly…."

Lestrade said, "Listen you two, I best be off. I have to go to the Yard and interview the teachers and the parents, and go through the evidence."

Sherlock swiveled towards him and said, "Lestrade, I'd like to ask a few questions to the parents myself. Have them wait for a while. I'll join you at the Yard in some time. And get in touch with your IT people. Get them on to the laptops of both the girls. I want their search histories, social networking profiles, emails, everything."

"Whatever you say, Sherlock," answered Lestrade agreeably, waving a hand as he left.

Sherlock turned back to Molly, murmuring, "Have you done the autopsy already, Molly?"

She reverted to a brisk pathologist as she walked to the desk, "I have the report right here. She was twelve weeks pregnant, Sherlock. Bashed in the head from behind, enough to cause her skull to cave in and some of the cerebral matter to ooze out. Time of death is approximately five days ago…"

Sherlock absently nodded, as his quick eyes scanned the report, jaws clenching as he read about the pregnancy.

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee. Would you like me to get you some?" Molly's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes, yes thank you, Molly," he replied absently. "I'm going to have a look at the body, and then ask you to assist me in the lab."

* * *

><p>Molly watched silently, as Sherlock loaded slide after slide and examined the evidence. Fast, adroit moves without a single wasted movement as his fingers danced over the equipment. Eyes narrowed from time to time, brow furrowed from time to time. She loved watching him. As if dexterity and mastery itself had personified into a person.<p>

_Wonder where he went. Why did he not tell me. I feel glad he is back. Everything is better somehow when he is here._

She sipped on her coffee, awaiting his instructions. "I heard you went to India…" she squeaked meekly, smile nervous but encouraging him to share.

Sherlock looked up from the microscope and observed her diffidence. He took his own neglected coffee cup in hand and sipped it. "Yes, yes I did, Molly."

"How was it? Heard you were with a friend. You look different somehow…. So this friend…" she broke off, cringing inside and waiting for his cutting retort.

Sherlock smirked with amusement, "Yes?"

"I don't mean to pry…" she stammered.

One eyebrow arched questioningly, Sherlock's expression was nevertheless laced with indulgence as he drawled, "But?"

Molly just looked at him, seeming to have lost the courage to inquire further.

Sherlock gazed intently at her and then admitted softly, "I _am_ happy, Molly. More than I have ever been." He folded his hands in front of his chest, as he leaned slightly back on his lab stool. "I'd prefer you don't say anything to anyone just yet." His gaze softened further, "You are a good friend….. Kesh, his name is Kesh. Molly, he is coming to London in a month, to live with me."

Molly stared open mouthed, with wide eyes. "_Live_ with you?" she hissed.

"Yes."

"Oh…. I see. I…. What about John?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he sat up straight again. "What do you mean, what about John?"

Molly opened her mouth, then closed it again, eyes searching Sherlock's face.

"Molly, John is married and happy. And I am happy for him."

"But does he know about Kesh?"

"He'll find out when Kesh comes here. But it really isn't his concern, is it?"

She answered slowly, "No, I suppose it isn't." She neared Sherlock and put her hand on Sherlock's forearm, "I am so glad you've found someone. Someone you can be happy with. I mean, it was never going to be me…. or John….." she laughed self consciously

Sherlock looked at her hand intently and then looked up into her eyes, "I met someone in India, Molly. She reminded me of you. She used to get very nervous while talking to me as well. But like you, when something needed to be said, she would stand her ground with dignity. I felt a lot of respect for her, the way I do for you. She was very loving as well..." Molly flushed and stared at him speechlessly, lips quirking into a quick smile. He gave a deep chuckle as he continued, "As a matter of fact, I attended her wedding."

"Her wedding!" Molly exclaimed. "You mean like an Indian wedding?" her girlish voice rose in tenor.

Sherlock replied holding her hand which was still on his forearm, "Yes! I must get Kesh to forward you some photographs."

Molly's excited squeals echoed in the lab, just as the door opened and John came in, eyebrows raised.

* * *

><p><em>It was at two in the afternoon that Lestrade had called John at his clinic.<em>

"_Hey, John. Guess who's back! Yeah, Sherlock is back! And I have a difficult serial kidnapping and disappearance case….. Yeah he is at the crime scene. But we're going to head to Barts soon…..Want to join us… no, I don't know why he hasn't called you yet…. Okay see you at Barts."_

_John had hurriedly worked things out with the two other doctors at the clinic and the reception staff to reallocate his patients to others or have them rebooked. Mary had started work at the clinic, while Rosa was in daycare now. _

"_Mary, Sherlock is back!" he told her excitedly. "He's already started work, I'm going to join him at Barts now."_

_Mary raised her eyebrows even as she smiled at his enthusiasm, "Well look at you. Like a kid at the lolly shop, you are! Go on then, have fun."_

"_Yeah, yes I will," he pecked her cheek absently, as he bolted out of the door. Mary watched him leave thoughtfully, smile fading away._

_It had taken over an hour of commute to get from his suburb to Barts even though it was not peak time yet. "Yeah, hurry up then, will you," he told the cab driver irritably._

"_Yes, yes….. it will be good. Good to see him. Hope it is a good case….. haven't done anything for so long," he thought._

_He threw the money at the cabdriver as he exited the cab and flew down the familiar corridors of St Barts._

Slowing as he neared the lab, he heard Molly's squeaks which he ignored, and was drawn to the deep baritone of Sherlock's throat as it mumbled.

He entered the lab, eyebrows raised.

Sherlock Holmes sat relaxed on his stool, dressed in bespoke black suit, shirt collar open as usual, eyes iridescent in the harsh laboratory lighting, looking impeccably groomed and in control as ever.

Verdigris eyes flicked from Molly to John, as Sherlock rose with a cordial smile on his lips, "John."

John took a deep breath, smiled as he moved forward to hug Sherlock. He stopped short when he noticed a hand extended towards him for a handshake. Shaking his head, John shook hands and then pulled Sherlock towards himself for a hug. Sherlock returned it with an awkward quick press on his shoulder with one hand.

They stood looking at each other. Sherlock with a warm smile crinkling his eyes, and John looked up at him with an expectant look and a frown.

"You git, how could you leave without telling _me_?" he complained. "Everyone was ringing me, expecting me to know where you were. Felt like a right idiot, had no fucking clue where you were!"

He looked up to find Sherlock looking back with keen insight in his eyes, quiet for once.

John continued, "So you must tell me everything you've been up to" wagging his finger.

"I _must_?"

"Yeah. Who this _friend_ is whom you suddenly found out of nowhere? Where the devil did you meet him? Didn't even know that you knew anyone in India, that you had ever been to India," said John in an accusing tone.

Molly looked at the two men facing each other. Sherlock looked relaxed with his hands in his trouser pockets, John pugnacious, chin tilted up, demanding.

"So….umm…..I'll leave you two alone then," she said moving towards the door.

John jerked out of his stance, as he said, "What's this all about then? What's the case?"

Sherlock responded, tone brisk, as he moved to his microscope again, "Molly will fill you in. Go and have a look at the body. Tell me if you find anything different from Molly's report. I'm going to finish up here, and then we need to go to the Yard. I need to question the parents of the two girls and talk to their IT staff."

John said, "Yeah, okay. Will do." His chest puffed with importance as he walked to the door. Turning back, he said to Sherlock, "Glad to have you back, Sherlock. It will be just like old times, you'll see." He turned and followed Molly out.

Sherlock inserted another slide under the eyepiece as he murmured, "_Indeed._"

* * *

><p>It was an hour later, that John watched as Sherlock donned his trademark coat and scarf and they left for the Yard.<p>

Halting the cab at a curb on the way, Sherlock stepped out, saying to the cab driver, "Be back in two minutes," as his long strides moved purposefully towards a middle aged homeless woman sitting, leaning against a building. John trotted behind him to keep up.

She peered at Sherlock and then gave a toothless grin in recognition, "Sherlock Holmes, as I live and breathe! Haven't seen your ugly mug in some time. Where have you been?"

"Away," Sherlock replied shortly. "Listen Bertha, I need your group to scout Trinity School, especially the library. I need to know who is going in and out. Where's Bernie?" he asked looking around.

"Oye, poor lad, blew his vein doing drugs. Had a huge abscess. Got it drained, but now he has an open wound on his forearm. Needs a skin graft they said. Bloody NHS has him on the waiting list, he will probably be dead by the time his turn comes," she snorted.

Sherlock nodded as he extended a fifty pound note towards her. "Send him to me Bertha. I'll see what I can do. Trinity School. I need data, get me data."

"Alright, Sherlock. And I'll get Bernie to come to you. You always help us." She nodded at him. You're a good man, don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Sherlock nodded back and said, "Come on, John," as he walked away.

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes later Sherlock and John walked into the yard towards Lestrade's office.<p>

Lestrade and Sally stood in a corner with a middle aged couple, talking in low voices. The woman had red rimmed anxious eyes, while the man though having his arms protectively around her shoulders, looked lost himself.

On seeing Sherlock approaching, Lestrade said in a low voice, "Now remember what I told you. Sherlock can be a bit curt, but he is our best chance to find your daughter. Just answer his questions and ignore his rudeness."

He gave them a small reassuring smile and walked up to meet Sherlock and John.

"They're the parents of the still missing girl. Now look Sherlock, please ….. just ask what you have to, and then let it go. They're upset enough as it is."

John gave a derisive snort, "It's alright, Greg. I'll handle him." He turned to Sherlock, "Be nice, Sherlock. Just…..Do you want me to take the lead? Just tell me what you want to ask them." He looked inquiringly at Sherlock, eyebrows raised.

Sherlock struggled to keep an impassive face, as their words stabbed at something in his chest, making it clench. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds and took a deep breath….._Kesh_…..

Opening his eyes, he fixed a focused gaze on John's face and said in an even tone, "I think I am perfectly capable of being civil, thank you for your help, John. Lestrade." Nodding briefly at them, he walked towards the couple.

They watched as he approached the couple. In a soft tone he seemed to introduce himself, as he shook the man's hand. Laying a gentle hand on the woman's arm, he gestured towards the interrogation room and followed them inside.

John watched the retreating back with a frown as he said slowly, "Right, well…. He wanted me to check how far the IT team have come along."

Lestrade was still watching the couple take a seat, the woman bursting into tears, and Sherlock's eyes fixed on her patiently. He murmured thoughtfully, "There's something different about him. He is as focused as ever….. but _better_ somehow…. Can't put my finger on it." He shook his head as he came out of his reverie, and said to an equally thoughtful John, "Right, IT team. Come with me John."

* * *

><p>It was two in the morning, that John stretched his arms wide and then rubbed his bleary eyes. He was starting to see double on the printed paper, with reams of data about the student's backgrounds, faithfully following Sherlock's instructions, to narrow down the suspect list and time line. Cold, soggy sandwiches for dinner had done little to nourish anyone.<p>

He glanced at Sherlock, sitting like a hermit at the corner desk surrounded by three computers. From time to time, he moved at lightning fast speed, fingers a blur on the keyboard as he chased a train of thought. Two of the computers belonged to the school girls and the third housed the entire database of the school with details of its employees, students and their parents. Intermittently Sherlock took breaks to text Molly who was still chasing leads at the lab.

Letting out a yawn, John looked pointedly at Lestrade who was currently in the office, barking orders on the phone. The sense of anticipation was high that the case was about to crack wide open with leads coming thick and fast. Everyone knew it was a race against time to save the life of the missing girl, and were working diligently.

Finally catching Lestrade's eye, John walked up to him and said, "I'm beat. I don't know that I can be of much use until I have a bit of shut-eye." Gesturing towards the door, he mumbled, "I'm going to kip for a couple of hours in one of your examination rooms."

They both turned towards Sherlock, who look lost in his own thoughts, brow furrowed, eyes moving. "Don't want to disturb him, Greg. Wake me if anything breaks."

Lestrade nodded and replied, "Well go on. I've got this…. Where does he get the fucking energy for this?"

* * *

><p>It was eight in the morning, that Sherlock suddenly gasped aloud and clapped his hands triumphantly. His eyes were darting all around as he seemed to have woven a tangible coherent picture out of the hundreds of threads of evidence they had gathered.<p>

Immediately Lestrade was by his side, having been at his wit's end for hours. "What is it, Sherlock? Have you got it?" he asked hopefully.

Sherlock stood up abruptly and began wearing his coat and scarf, talking in his usual rapid fire way, firing off deductions. Sally and a couple of police officers gathered around with pads, rapidly taking notes, getting their walkie-talkies ready, as they moved en masse behind an oblivious Sherlock striding towards the door, throwing facts in the air.

Tires squealed in the driveway as a mass of police men and women followed Sherlock, John and Lestrade to Trinity school.

* * *

><p>"Oh my God!" exclaimed John laughing with delight. "That was the most fun I've had in months. Felt good to chase something after such a long time. For a while, I thought he was going to bolt free." He moaned in appreciation as he took a huge bite of his hamburger. "Damn, that feels good."<p>

It was four in the afternoon. Lestrade, John and Sherlock were sitting in a café, just around the corner from the Yard. Lestrade dug into his pizza like the starving man he was. Still chewing on it, he mumbled at Sherlock, "That was bloody fantastic, Sherlock. The look on the arts teacher's face as we confronted him. Priceless!"

John nodded, still eating as he agreed, "Brilliant_… that_ was amazing."

Sherlock sipped on his coffee as he agreed, "Yes it was."

He looked out of the café window as the other two ate.

They had just witnessed an emotional reunion between the missing school girl and her distraught parents. Their broken words of gratitude echoed in his head, as he sipped on the coffee, a satisfied look on his tired face.

_I did well, Kesh. I was brilliant. Would have given anything to have you with me to share my triumph. _Kesh seemed to answer from within him somewhere, voice loving and adoring_, I'm always with you Sherlock. Can't you feel me? You are brilliant, you are perfection, I love you…._

Sherlock shrugged off his fanciful thoughts with a rueful smile, as he turned his attention back to the two men and what they were saying.

"Sherlock, you need to come in and fill the paperwork for this one. And I have several cases I've been keeping on ice, hoping you'll have a look at them. We've kept the evidence, just as you like it," said Lestrade.

"Oh," said John. "Well, you'll be needing help with those too, I suppose. Look why don't you do the paperwork bit. I'm going to take off for a while after lunch and see what I can sort out."

Raising a hand, John ordered a coffee for himself and Lestrade.

As they waited, Lestrade sat back on his chair, sighing with contentment. He waved his hand at Sherlock and said, "So tell us about India, Sherlock. About this friend."

Sherlock looked briefly at both of them and replied, "Kesh. His name is Kesh."

John leaned back as well, and spread his arms for emphasis and said in an accusing tone, "You know Sherlock, it was like Reichenbach all over again. You just took off, not for a few days, for almost three months." Stabbing his finger towards Sherlock's face, he continued, "Only this time, thank God, we knew you were not dead. What the bloody hell were you up to?"

They settled back as the waitress came back with the coffee and began clearing their table.

"And this…..Kesh…" John continued with a wave of his arm, "Who is he? How did you meet him? What does he do?"

Sherlock looked on blankly, eyes unfocussed as he thought.

_You see, we have become quite used to approaching Hrishikesh bhaiyya when we have a problem…._

_I have seen him visit huts to talk, to give, to threaten, to protect…..absolute strangers…._

_Kesh has done a lot for this village and other villages around here. These people owe him a lot. I have never known him to turn anyone down….._

_He has helped countless other Uddhavs out there, whom you and I will never know about, because he never talks about it…._

_Dark matter, matter that is hidden from us, only seen in its effects, dark energy that cannot be detected, that 95% is accelerating the universe outwards….._

"Sherlock….Oye, Sherlock!" Lestrade called out waving his hand in front of Sherlock's blank eyes.

Sherlock gave a small shake, as he finally replied, "He's a physicist."

John nodded, "Oh, right. Well, must be high-brow."

He suddenly looked animated as he turned to Lestrade, "Say listen. You know that tragedy in North India. That Himalyan Tsunami that happened. It was near where Sherlock was, isn't it Sherlock?"

"Yes," was the quiet reply.

Lestrade said, "Yeah, I heard about that one. It was horrible, wasn't it?"

John took a sip of his coffee and continued, "Yeah, saw it on telly. Mary actually called my attention to it. I tried to call Mycroft, but the git wouldn't take my call. Anthea answered…Said Mycroft was not _at liberty _to come to the phone as he was overseas. But that you were fine." He shrugged, "I figured as long as you were not involved, it was fine."

Sherlock's eyes went almost colourless as he stared at John, a faraway look in his eyes.

_Please sir, please don't let me die….. save me, please bhaiyya…_

_Uncle, please help me. Jump, child. I'll catch you, jump…_

_No…..no, Haridas…no…_

_You are God himself….you saved me…. you were sent by the Gods to save me…..you are God….._

_NO….YOU DO NOT get to do this…..YOU DO NOT take my Kesh from me…_

_O Rudra…._

Sherlock repeated mechanically, voice soft, "It was fine…."

Lestrade stared at Sherlock keenly, then looked at his watch, "Oh Gosh! Look at the time. I better get back to the Yard. You coming, Sherlock?"

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock stood up as he said slowly, "Might as well finish it off."

John stood up too, "Look Sherlock. I need to sort a few things. I'll contact you later today. Okay?"

Sherlock said absently, "Fine," as he walked off with Lestrade, without turning back.

John stared at him walking away, then shrugged and made his way to an empty cab.

* * *

><p>Lestrade and Sherlock walked into his office.<p>

Shrugging off his coat as Sherlock took a seat, Lestrade said gesturing at the waiting forms on the desk, "Fill up your bit, I'll fill in the rest."

He stared at the top of Sherlock's bent head, as he started writing.

"Something big happened to you in India, didn't it?" he asked softly after a long pause.

Sherlock looked up to meet his keen gaze.

"Yes." He answered in a husky low voice.

"Something to do with this friend, Kesh?"

"Yes."

"Something good?"

Sherlock took a deep breath as he answered candidly with a soft smile, "_Very_ good."

Lestrade smiled broadly, gaze fond as he mumbled, "About bloody time, if you ask me."

He put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder and squeezed, as he walked past him to the door. "You'll tell me when you're ready," he said confidently.

Sherlock turned to face him, warmth in his eyes, touching his hand briefly, "Thank you….. _Greg_," and turned back to the forms.

* * *

><p>It was past nine at night, that a sleepy Sherlock went to open the pounding door to his apartment.<p>

He took in with startled eyes, the sight of John with a small suitcase wearing a big grin on his face. His eyes darted from John to the suitcase and back. Wordlessly he opened the door fully and stepped aside to allow John to enter.

John dragged the suitcase in saying, "It's all set, Sherlock. Mary is leaving tomorrow with Rosa to go to Birmingham for about ten days. She wants to go to support a friend who is going through a nasty divorce."

He moved into the familiar kitchen and started filling the kettle with water. "I thought it would be good if I stay here with you, whilst she is gone. It will make it easier to assist you with the cold cases and if any new ones come up. Saves me from having to commute to the suburbs everyday."

Sherlock stared at him as he moved about in the kitchen.

_Three months ago I'd have given anything for this to happen…._

Waving a mug at Sherlock, John asked, "Tea?"

"No, thank you John. I was just off to bed."

"Oh," John said looking disappointed. After a few seconds he said, "Well, we have a full ten days to catch up, I suppose. It will be just like old times," he said taking a sip of his tea, smiling.

Sherlock took in the eager look on his friend's face, perceptive eyes missing nothing.

He was silent for a few seconds, then said simply, "The bedroom upstairs should be just as you left it. Good night, John."

He turned and walked towards his bedroom, aware of John's eyes following him.

_Oh Kesh, you're not going to believe what just happened…._

To be continued…..


End file.
